


Magical Relations - Second Year

by evansentranced



Series: Magical Relations [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Hogwarts Second Year, Magical Dudley Dursley, Slytherin!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:13:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evansentranced/pseuds/evansentranced
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Dudley's second year. Highlights include snakes, the Quidditch team, Petunia Dursley, and a very timely rooster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
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> [](http://imgur.com/LEVeJFv)  
>   
> 
> 
> (banner by j1mmyj6zz, but the account I have for them is deactivated. Let me know if you know how I can credit them!) 

"Now, as we all know, today is a very important day," Uncle Vernon said, clearing his throat.

Dudley grinned and pulled a present out from under the table. "Happy Birthday, Harry!"

Harry looked up with some surprise. He wasn't the only one. Uncle Vernon blinked as Dudley handed Harry the cylinder shaped gift, and Aunt Petunia looked on in distaste.

"Er, right, yes, of course," Uncle Vernon blustered. "Let me finish, Dudley. Today is a very important day, yes, for two reasons. The first of which is Harry's birthday, of course."

Harry tried not to smirk. Everyone at the table (with the possible exception of Dudley) knew that his birthday was not what Uncle Vernon had meant, and that he was only pretending so to please Dudley. Harry didn't mind though. Dudley had remembered his birthday, had even bought him a present!

Uncle Vernon coughed slightly. "The other reason, of course, is the deal I could make tonight from this dinner party. Now, I think we should run through the schedule one more time. We should all be in position at eight o'clock. Petunia, you will be…?"

Aunt Petunia frowned and recited, "In the lounge, waiting to welcome them graciously into our home."

"Right, and Dudley?"

"I'll be waiting to open the door." Dudley put on a simpering voice. "May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"

Uncle Vernon nodded. "Excellent. And you, Harry?"

"I'll be standing next to Dudley." Harry didn't put on a voice, but he did repeat the words Uncle Vernon had told him to use. "Allow me to escort you to the lounge, Mr. and Mrs. Mason."

Harry couldn't help but feel a bit stupid as he parroted his line at Uncle Vernon, but he had to admit that it was better than being shut up somewhere, which was what Uncle Vernon used to prefer when he had his dinner parties.

"Good, good. And I'll explain that you're our nephew, visiting for the summer, and…" Uncle Vernon seemed to have been struck with an idea. "We could even turn it into a small birthday dinner for you, as well! They have children, they'd love the idea!"

Uncle Vernon looked benevolently down on Harry, who was currently sitting stunned in his chair, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of a birthday dinner for  _him._  True, it would only be because Uncle Vernon wanted to look like a family man in front of a possible client, but Harry would take what he could get.

"Alright, it's settled then," Uncle Vernon said, clapping his hands jovially. "I'll tell them that I invited them to celebrate your birthday because…at Grunnings, we like to think of clients as family!" Uncle Vernon seemed absolutely ecstatic at his own cleverness. "Excellent! Now, after we lead them into the lounge…"

* * *

After breakfast, Harry and Dudley went out in the backyard to open Harry's present. Uncle Vernon had left directly after breakfast to attend to a few last minute details about the dinner, and neither Harry nor Dudley wanted to be alone with Aunt Petunia.

As the summer had progressed, Aunt Petunia's antipathy toward her only child had only increased. Harry felt that he may not have helped matters, what with having bought Dudley what now seemed, in retrospect, like half of Zonkos for his birthday. The pranks seemed never ending with Aunt Petunia's disapproving, often angry or disgusted scowl at the end of them.

Dudley had caught on to this too, and had begun avoiding his mother whenever possible. Aunt Petunia had silently claimed the kitchen as her domain, and Dudley avoided it like the plague unless he was certain she wasn't home. Harry received a shock one day when he looked at one of the many pictures on the walls containing a younger Dudley. He still couldn't be labelled thin by any means, but compared to last year, Dudley was positively trim.

Even if Dudley hadn't been having a stellar time of it, Harry personally felt that this was the best summer he'd ever experienced. Aunt Petunia, while still snappish and rude to him, had expanded her horizons to being snappish and rude to everyone in the house, and it was much easier to bear when he wasn't alone in it. Uncle Vernon had been positively polite to him (which was somewhere in between doting on Dudley and fighting almost constantly with Aunt Petunia), and had apparently decided to simply leave Harry to himself whenever possible. Dudley, of course, had become quite friendly with Harry, despite not inviting him along to hang out with his old friends. Harry was actually quite relieved at this, and said nothing. Instead, he asked for use of Dudley's owl and wrote to his own friends. Dudley sometimes asked him to add a greeting from him, never having been very enthusiastic about the business of writing for pleasure, and Harry had also been 'gifted with the honour' of cleaning out Whitey's cage and feeding her for the summer, which he didn't really mind as much as he pretended to.

Hermione, Draco, Pansy and Blaise had promised him presents that were apparently supposed to arrive today, and Anthony had mentioned that he wasn't sure when Harry's present would be arriving, as he had owl-ordered it, and had told him to watch the skies.

At the moment, though, Harry was looking down at the present he had, rather than up for the presents he would be getting. This would be his first ever present, and he wanted to savour it. He and Dudley were sitting on the small bench in the yard now, and Dudley had a big grin on his face as he encouraged Harry to open it.

"Go on then," he said as Harry ripped open the wrapping and stared blankly at the contents.

"…Hairspray?" he asked faintly, holding the bottle in his hands in disbelief.

"Remember!" Dudley laughed, "On the train, they were all talking about buying you stuff for your hair!"

Harry couldn't help but smile a bit at the memory. He was honestly expecting Draco's present to be a mirror, although he wasn't sure if the rest of them would take the joking seriously.

"Anyway," Dudley said, still chuckling, "That's not your real present, I was just taking the mickey."

He pulled another, smaller box out of his pocket and handed it to Harry, who was overwhelmed. Two presents? And a birthday dinner? The Dursleys had never been this good to him, and Harry had no illusions about whose good will was causing it.

"Thank you, Dudley," Harry said fervently, looking down at the box in his hand.

"It's no big deal," Dudley said, waving his hand. "I wasn't just gonna get you hairspray."

Harry grinned at him and opened the box carefully.

"A watch?" Harry asked, lifting it out of the box and examining it.

"Yeah," Dudley hurried to explain. "I mean, you've had my old one forever, and this one's much nicer, the strap isn't taped together. And it's not even digital, so it'll work at Hogwarts."

"Thanks, Dudley," Harry said happily, taking off his old watch and putting on the new one. "It's really nice."

Dudley grinned at him and cuffed him on the arm. "Let's go watch the telly."

* * *

Over the course of the day, several owls came for Harry. The first was from Blaise, who had bought him his own practice Snitch with a note enclosed that told him to practice so that they'd win the cup, and that he should tell Pansy that Blaise had also bought him a brush.

The next was from Hermione, a large book of uncommon spells, in which she'd bookmarked sections she thought he'd be interested in, including cleaning, protective and defensive spells.

He sent both owls back with 'thank you's, and warned Blaise that he couldn't be held responsible if Pansy got the truth out of him.

At lunch, Dudley somehow convinced Harry to make them sandwiches. They ate in the backyard, and played with Harry's Snitch. Harry gave Dudley the remote for the television and told him to pretend to be controlling it while Harry chased it so that the neighbours wouldn't wonder.

That was the newest rule in the Dursley household: Don't let the neighbours see anything you can't explain. Uncle Vernon was fine with the other residents of Privet Drive thinking that his son had a pet bird and lots of cool gadgets, as long as they had no clue about the magical aspect of it all.

Harry noticed Aunt Petunia giving him a dark look from the kitchen window at one point, and that was when the Snitch got put away. He knew that she had never agreed with Uncle Vernon's reasoning about the neighbours, and would prefer that Dudley didn't have a bird, and that they kept all their 'gadgets' in their trunks. Aunt Petunia was not adjusting well to magic, and anyone could see that she resented Uncle Vernon for welcoming it so easily into their home. Harry knew that that was the source of his Aunt and Uncle's constant fighting, and although Dudley sometimes wasn't the brightest of boys, Harry could tell that his cousin had also made the connection.

They sat quietly for a bit after the Snitch game was over. Another owl fluttered down, this one from Pansy, and delivered a smallish box and a note. In the note, she wished him a happy birthday and informed him that the box was the sort that had expansion charms on the inside, and that it was a useful sort of thing and so he should save it. She also told him that she had no doubt that Blaise had not gotten him a brush as he'd promised, and that she expected him to actually use the one she had enclosed.

Harry smiled to himself and decided not to open it in the backyard, as this was the sort of thing that Uncle Vernon would  _not_ approve of the neighbours seeing. He put it in his pocket along with the note for later.

* * *

Harry sat awkwardly across from Mr. Mason as he tried very hard not to listen to the argument going on in the kitchen. The group in the dining room (Harry, Dudley, and the Masons) were able to catch faint snatches of what was starting to sound like a very serious fight.

"…don't care…you just….."

"…unreasonable! ….how important….to me…"

"I don't….I won't pretend…those freaks….!"

Harry looked over at Dudley, who was much less used to this sort of attitude from Aunt Petunia. Sure enough, he looked very upset. The Masons, on the other hand, were furious.

"How dare she!" Mrs. Mason hissed. "I have never been so insulted! In all my days…"

"You are absolutely right, dear," Mr. Mason agreed, folding his napkin up and standing. "We are  _leaving_." He turned to Harry. "I apologise, dear boy, if we have ruined your birthday. Clearly your aunt is unable to tolerate our presence. Tell your uncle that we will not bother him again."

Harry wanted to stop them, just a little bit. Uncle Vernon had spoken of nothing but this dinner party for weeks, and Harry had learned young that an unhappy Uncle Vernon did not bode well for him. But what would he say? No, don't worry Mr. Mason. She's just talking about us. She doesn't think you're a freak. Just her son and nephew.

He didn't think that would go over much better, to be honest. So instead, he apologised for his aunt as he led them to the door and handed them their coats.

"She's just been having a hard time recently," he tried as they stood on the doorstep. "Don't blame my uncle for it."

Mrs. Mason smiled at them, as Dudley had followed Harry to the door, looking upset and lost.

"You're sweet children," she said, "But your aunt and uncle seem to have several issues they need to work out."

"Too right," Mr. Mason agreed gruffly. "Can't expect a man to focus on business when he needs to be concentrating on his family."

They wished Harry a happy birthday once more, and left. Harry and Dudley went back to the dining room and finished their dinners, and when Uncle Vernon came back to apologise and found his guests gone, the fighting started all over again. Harry left the plates on the table and dragged Dudley upstairs, away from it.

They spent the rest of the night in Dudley's room, Dudley flipping absently through the channels on the television and turning up the volume when ever the yelling got particularly loud. Harry looked through the box from Pansy, and even got Dudley to laugh at the bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. Even though the potions and brush were meant as his real present, Harry thought the box was much more interesting and distracted Dudley by betting him that he could fit his dresser in it. They spent a while trying to lift the dresser, which was filled with toys and clothing, and was therefore immensely heavy. Eventually they gave up and collapsed, and Harry made them both feel better by pointing out that even if they had managed to do it, they would still have had to get the dresser  _out_  later.

It was nearing eleven by this point, and the only sound from downstairs was the television. Harry said goodnight to Dudley and went to his own room, where an eagle owl was waiting on his desk with a long, thin package. Harry untied the package and it hopped away from him, ruffling it's feathers irritably.

He pointed it toward Whitey's cage, and she bristled and hooted condescendingly at him. He sighed and went out to the bathroom to get the new owl some water. As he made his way back to his room, he saw Aunt Petunia disappearing back into her own bedroom with an armful of something.

He wondered about it as he went back to his room, but soon forgot as he contemplated his present. This one was from Draco, and Harry had a very good idea of what it was. Despite that, he was still surprised when, after he'd unwrapped it and set it upright on his desk, it snapped at him to straighten his collar. Harry grinned bemusedly at it and did as he was told. It then asked him to do something about his hair, which prompted him to explain that he was just about to go to bed anyway.

"That is absolutely no reason to look so scruffy," the mirror huffed as he turned his back on it and began to get changed.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry agreed absently, suddenly realizing he hadn't seen a note and going back to the wrapping paper for a look. It was a short letter, wishing him a happy birthday and telling him Draco would see them next Wednesday, and that he and Dudley were to meet them at the Leaky Cauldron at noon. He also assured Harry that he'd be tucking in his shirt automatically by September. Draco seemed very amused by the idea.

Harry made a face as he tossed the note back down on the desk and climbed into bed. He wasn't sure if he was going to like this present or not.


	2. The Return

The next morning, when they woke up, Aunt Petunia was gone.

 

Harry had gone downstairs, early as always (although he was dressed much neater than usual), and found Uncle Vernon sitting at the table in the dining room with a bottle and a note sitting in front of him.  _'Vernon, I'm sorry,'_ the note said. _'I can't handle it anymore.'_

Harry felt like he'd been sucker punched. It shouldn't have been so much of a surprise, with the summer they'd had, and it shouldn't have affected Harry as much as it did, with the history he had with his Aunt, but it was, and it did.

Despite the way they'd treated him, his Aunt and Uncle had always been  _together_. It had been something he'd always just known, a fact of his life. They'd been united in their distaste for him, and now that that was no longer the case, Harry wasn't sure what to do. Uncle Vernon didn't seem to be handling it any better; on the contrary, he was taking it much, much worse. Harry looked down at the floor and saw that the bottle Uncle Vernon was currently finishing off was by no means his first.

Then a thought occurred to him. Dudley didn't know yet. Dudley was going to take this far worse than either of them. Harry only had to deal with his shock, and while Uncle Vernon was losing his wife, Dudley was losing his mother. And what she'd written in her letter made it even worse than just that.

' _I can't handle it anymore. I want to be able to remember him as normal, not as one of those freaks.'_

She couldn't have made it clearer that it was Dudley's fault that she'd left. He was going to take this horribly.

* * *

"Why, Harry?" Dudley yelled, throwing one of his schoolbooks at his television.

Harry had been right. Dudley was taking this horribly. They were upstairs in Dudley's room again, after Uncle Vernon had broken the news to him. He had refused to let Dudley read the letter, though, which Harry thought was probably a good move, even if Dudley already seemed to know why she'd gone.

"She never seemed to have a problem with you having magic!" he continued angrily, kicking his wall. "She didn't even yell at you after your letter came! Why did she start hating me?"

"I don't think she  _hated_  you, Dudley," Harry tried to reason, ducking a video game case and wondering if he was telling his cousin a lie. "I think she just couldn't handle your having magic."

"But why was it okay for you to have magic?" Dudley asked, sinking suddenly down onto his bed. He looked on the verge of tears. "Why did she start ignoring you and hating me?"

Harry didn't know what to do. He couldn't say it wasn't Dudley's fault, because Aunt Petunia had made it abundantly clear in her letter that it  _was_  his fault.

"I think she was used to me, Dudley, and she never liked me in the first place," Harry explained, having accepted this long ago. "You were a shock…"

Dudley put his head in his hands, and Harry tentatively put an arm around his shoulder. "It's not fair." he muttered. Harry nodded sympathetically.

* * *

Dudley sat in the backseat of the car, sulking as they drove toward London. Harry tried to remind him that this time, it wasn't one of Uncle Vernon's 'let's spoil Dudley so he'll forget his mother left him' trips, and that they were going for school supplies in Diagon Alley with Draco. Dudley didn't seem to care very much. He'd been like this since Aunt Petunia left, and Uncle Vernon had taken the week off and thrown himself into making he and Dudley feel better. The problem with this was that he had no idea how, and so the past several days had been filled with a very hung-over Uncle Vernon taking Dudley on constant field trips to various amusement parks, zoos and restaurants. Harry was even allowed to come sometimes, if it looked to Uncle Vernon like Dudley might appreciate it.

"Alright, here we are," Uncle Vernon said, pulling over in front of the Leaky Cauldron. "I'll be back to pick you up around five." He pulled out his wallet and handed Dudley a large wad of cash. "Make sure you get everything you need, son."

Harry and Dudley got out of the car, Harry putting his hand in his pocket to make sure his key was still there. When his Hogwarts letter had come, Harry had written back to Dumbledore, inquiring about any money his parents might have left him. The reply was this key and an explanation that it was meant for when he was ready to strike out on his own, and a caution to not use the money frivolously. Harry had told Uncle Vernon that Filch paid very well, and that he would probably be able to afford his own schooling from now on, and Uncle Vernon was happy enough to not be paying for him that he didn't bother questioning it, and even told Harry he had until he had finished at Hogwarts to pay him back for first year. Harry thought this very generous of him.

They stepped inside the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry immediately spotted Draco near the other exit, waiting impatiently with what must be his father. The hair was unmistakeable. He and Dudley made their way over to say hello.

"Hello Harry, Dudley," Draco said politely.

"Hi, Draco," Harry responded in turn. Dudley echoed him unenthusiastically.

"I would like you to meet my father, Lucius Malfoy," Draco said, looking up at his father. "Father, this is Harry Potter and his cousin, Dudley Dursley."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter," Mr. Malfoy said smoothly, extending a hand for Harry to shake. He didn't look at Dudley at all. "I have heard much of you from my son. He tells me you're quite the Slytherin."

Harry blinked. "Er, yes, thank you," he said uncertainly, looking at Draco, who shrugged behind his father's back and mouthed 'act snooty'. Harry bit his lip and straightened his posture.

"Draco has told me much about you as well, sir," Harry tried, using the most pretentious voice he thought he could get away with. Then he wracked his brains for things Draco had said about his father. Eventually, he gave up and made something up. "I'm proud to be associated with such a prestigious family."

Mr. Malfoy seemed approving of his response, in any case. "No, Mr. Potter, it is my family that is honoured that you would consider us allies."

Harry was beginning to hope this conversation would end soon. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Please, Mr. Potter, call me Lucius."

Harry wondered what to say to that, if he was supposed to tell Mr. Malfoy to call him Harry. He supposed it wouldn't hurt and tried it.

"Excellent," Mr. Malfoy said with a satisfied nod. "I have business to attend to today. Draco, remember that you and Harry are to meet me at Flourish and Blotts at four o'clock." He turned to Harry again and gave a smile that worried him a bit. "Enjoy your day, Harry."

And with that, he was gone.

Harry gave Draco a bewildered look. Draco laughed at him, looking much more at ease than he had five minutes ago. "Well. That was my father. What did you think?"

"I feel like I signed a contract I'm going to regret later," Harry said uncertainly, following Draco and Dudley out to the alley. "Why did he ignore Dudley?"

Draco looked slightly uncomfortable at this question. "Er…that could be because I told him a while ago that you don't like your cousin… Or because Dudley's a muggleborn…sorry Dudley."

Dudley made a noise in the back of his throat and continued trailing along behind them. Draco looked at him from the corner of his eye. "Is he still upset about…"

Harry nodded. He'd mentioned Aunt Petunia's leaving in a letter, which Draco had responded to in shock that a muggle be anything but awed by magic.

"I…sorry about your mum," Draco said hesitantly. Dudley made the noise again and continued following them.

"That means 'thank you'," Harry whispered, and Draco laughed a little bit.

"Gringotts first?" Draco asked. Harry nodded, and they set off for the white marble landmark in the distance.

* * *

Diagon Alley actually managed to cheer Dudley up to the point that he was talking in full sentences, to Harry's relief. Gringotts had jumpstarted this, as Dudley hadn't seen the goblins last time, and neither of them had taken the ride down to a vault, which Dudley proclaimed later to be better than any roller coaster.

They wandered around the various shops, restocking their supplies. Dudley needed new robes, and Draco wanted a new pair of gloves, so they stopped off at Madam Malkin's as well. Harry even bought them all ice cream cones at one point. As four o'clock approached, they made their way to the bookstore, which was overflowing with people.

"What's with the crowd?" Dudley asked, struggling to keep up with Harry and Draco as they slipped in the door.

"Some poncy author is doing a book signing," Draco explained, pointing at a banner stretched across the windows.

"Gilderoy Lockhart?" Harry read. "Never heard of him."

"He actually is pretty famous," Draco told them, grabbing them each a copy of  _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2,_ which allowed them to escape upstairs, away from the crowd. "Not to mention he wrote most of the booklist, which you'd know if you even looked at it. Bet you a galleon our new Defense teacher fancies him." He darted a look at Harry. "Let's just wait until Father arrives to get those."

"Sure," Harry agreed, leaning against the bookshelf behind him. "How was your summer, then?"

"It was decent," Draco said dismissively. "How do you like your mirror?"

Harry grimaced at him. "It argues with me every morning. I've spent hours trying to convince it that my hair isn't getting any neater, but it just doesn't stop." He stood up straight and opened his arms so that Draco could see his clothing. "Look at how neat I am now! It doesn't let me leave the room until I've tucked my shirt in!"

Draco had been snickering at him throughout his explanation, and even Dudley was grinning.

"He refuses to use the stuff Pansy sent him," Dudley revealed. "That's why the mirror keeps bugging him."

Harry scowled at him. "I don't think it would do any good," he said to Draco, who was now laughing at him with Dudley. "Both of you stuff it."

Draco smirked at him once more, then looked down at the crowd below them.

"There's Father, come on," he said, heading for the landing. Harry watched his back straighten as they walked down the stairs.

"There you are, good." Mr. Malfoy eyed the crowd distastefully. "Have you found all your books?"

"We still need the Lockhart ones," Draco said, and Mr. Malfoy cast a disdainful eye up at the table where Lockhart was grinning toothily and winking at the crowd.

"Hurry up, then," Mr. Malfoy said, and the three boys shoved their way toward Lockhart's table, which was near where the books were stocked, and grabbed a copy each.

"This is ridiculous," Draco muttered, trying to balance the books already in his arms while adding more. "We don't need this many books for one class."

Harry couldn't help but agree as he was bumped into by a man dancing around Lockhart with a camera, causing him to drop all his books.

"Watch where you're going, these are for the Daily Prophet," the cameraman snarled at him. Harry rolled his eyes and bent down to pick up all his books.

He stood up, balancing his books and darting a glance around to make sure he wouldn't be knocked over again. Lockhart looked up from a book just in time to meet Harry's eye, causing his own to widen.

"Why, it simply  _can_ _'_ _t_ be  _Harry Po_ \- "

"Come along, boys," Mr. Malfoy said smoothly, appearing out of nowhere and blocking Harry from Lockhart's line of sight. He ushered the three of them toward the register and paid for their books, nodding at Harry and Dudley's uncertain thanks. He then levitated all of their purchases for them and ushered them immediately out of the store, so that by the time everyone realized that Lockhart had spotted  _the Harry Potter_ , they were already long gone.

* * *

Dudley was a bit better after Diagon Alley, but not for long. By the end of that week, he'd regressed right back to monosyllabic responses and general silence.

Uncle Vernon decided that Dudley was happier doing non-muggle things, and so when Dudley mentioned one day that he'd accidentally broken one of his ink bottles and ruined one of his Lockhart books, Uncle Vernon suggested going back to Diagon Alley and getting him another one. Harry stayed home, as there were only two weeks left till school started, and Hermione had begun each letter she sent him lately with 'have you finished your homework yet?'

Dudley did seem to be in a better mood when they got back, and when Harry waved a quill at him in greeting and told him that Hermione had said hello in her most recent letter, he flushed, grabbed his own homework, and sat down at the table next to Harry to get started.

After that, Dudley seemed to improve somewhat. While he was still upset over Aunt Petunia, he didn't seem to be brooding over it as much. He did spend large amounts of time in his room on his own, but when Harry checked on him once, under the pretence of bringing him a sandwich, he found Dudley writing. He didn't see what, but he assumed homework, as Dudley sometimes paused for a few moments, as though thinking or reading what he had just written, before scribbling more.

The rest of the summer passed without note, and soon Dudley and Harry were at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, saying goodbye to Uncle Vernon. He and Dudley hugged, and Uncle Vernon gave Harry a look that said ' _keep an eye on him_ _'_. Harry nodded. They were both still a bit worried about Dudley.

After passing through the barrier and finding a compartment, Harry settled down to keep an eye out the window for their friends, and Dudley pulled out a small book and began writing, to Harry's confusion.

"Still doing homework, Dudley?" he asked.

Dudley finished what he was writing and looked up at Harry defensively.

"No," he said with a frown. "I'm just writing. Got a problem?"

Harry blinked at this unexpectedly acerbic response, and Dudley went back to his book.

By the time the train was pulling out of the station, Hermione, Blaise, Pansy and Draco had all found them, and had all learned quickly not to ask Dudley what he was writing. Even an absently curious response evoked a glare from him, and they quickly left him alone and discussed their summers instead.

"I didn't do much," Hermione told them. "Spent time with my parents, they took me to plays and movies and things, and I did my homework. That's about it, really."

"Well, at least you're back with your own kind now," Draco said consolingly. Everyone in the compartment (with the exception of Dudley, who was still writing) stared at him, and Hermione looked offended.

"Excuse me?" she asked. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

Draco seemed to realize he'd put his foot in it, but soldiered on. "Well, you know, you're back with witches and wizards, so you don't have to deal with…the muggles…"

Hermione opened her mouth angrily, and Harry knew she was about to start a tirade. He did nothing to stop her, however, feeling a bit shocked that Draco would say something so rude. Unfortunately, Blaise interrupted before she could say a word.

"You'll have to excuse Draco," he told her with a charming smile. "He can sometimes be a bit…tactless." He glared at Draco.

Draco glared back at him, but didn't say anything, having realized how fine a line he was walking, especially when he turned to Harry and saw that he was no happier with Draco than Hermione was.

"So, Harry," Pansy said loudly. "Did Sleekeazy's work?"

Harry allowed the topic change with a groan. "No, It didn't."

"That would explain why you aren't using it now," Pansy nodded. Harry shook his head, intending to explain that even if it  _had_ worked, he wouldn't use it all the time.

"Actually," Draco said tentatively, trying to ignore Blaise, who seemed be watching to make sure Draco didn't say any more stupid things, "Dudley told me he didn't even try it. He argued about it with his mirror all the time, apparently."

"Really?" Pansy smiled sweetly at Harry, who slid as far away from her as possible on the seats while shooting Draco a glare. "We'll just have to give it a try, then. Lucky that I have some in my trunk."

Harry's eyes widened, and he had just stood up to excuse himself to the loo for the rest of the trip when the doors slid open.

"Vince, Greg?" Pansy asked, having also stood to stop Harry and get her trunk down from the rack. "What are you two doing here?"

"Er," Draco said uncomfortably. Everyone looked at him again. "They're here for me. They're supposed to…." He trailed off, muttering the rest. Blaise raised an eyebrow at him, clearly having heard more than the rest of them.

"Bodyguards, Draco?" he asked incredulously. Everyone stared at Crabbe and Goyle now, who were standing in the doorway, waiting to be allowed inside.

"It wasn't exactly my idea," Draco said defensively. "I told Father I don't need bodyguards, but he said I have to have them anyway."

"That's ridiculous," Hermione said, and it was clear that she still wasn't pleased with Draco. "They can't be expected to follow you around and obey your every whim. They have their own lives to worry about!"

"That's what I said," Draco agreed uncomfortably. "Well, not really," he added after a moment. "But that's what I thought. Unfortunately, Father doesn't agree with us. You two can just sit over there and play cards or something," he said, addressing this to Crabbe and Goyle, who did just that, Crabbe pulling a pack of playing cards out of his pocket as they sat.

Hermione scowled at him. The next hour was spent in an uncomfortable silence, only broken when Blaise challenged Harry to a chess match and Harry lost horribly.

"You're pathetic, Harry," Blaise said in amusement, setting up the pieces again. "I'm going to teach you strategy if it kills me. Draco, give me a hand here."

"Sure," Draco said, leaning over Harry's shoulder to look at the board. "Pawn to D5."

"I didn't ask you to play for him!" Blaise exclaimed. "Harry, why would Draco want to make that particular move?"

Harry eyed the board in concentration. "Because he wants to kill my poor pawn?"

Draco made an affronted noise and shoved him a bit.

"If I sacrifice that pawn, Harry, that means that you're in position to take his bishop without any casualties."

"Aside from my pawn," Harry corrected.

"Yes, aside from your pawn," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "That's how you play the game, Harry."

"But isn't there a way to do that where my pawn doesn't have to explode into tiny little pieces, Draco?"

Draco considered this. "Well, maybe if we sacrifice it to the rook instead. He doesn't have a mace, anyway."

"Why does that game have to be so violent?" Hermione asked from her seat across from them.

"Because Harry's too soft-hearted," Blaise said jokingly, watching Harry wince as his pawn was decimated. "We'll get him over that soon enough."

"If they didn't  _scream_ like that," Harry said, moving the pawn mournfully off the board and taking Blaise's bishop.

"My father has a chess set," Pansy said from her seat next to Hermione. "His pieces don't scream."

"My father has one too," Hermione agreed. "His don't kill each other horribly. Taking the piece is symbolic. You just tap it and move it off the board."

"Yes, well," Blaise said amiably, killing one of Harry's knights. "When Harry gets his own set, maybe they'll just tap each other and dance off the board. And maybe they won't scream. But mine do."

"So do mine," Draco agreed. "It's more fun that way."

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something about boys.

"Oh, hey, that reminds me," Draco said. "One of the house elves insisted on coming to Hogwarts with me this year."

Harry glanced at him askance. "Talking about screaming chess pieces reminds you of your house elf?"

"He's a bit odd," Draco explained, looking embarrassed.

"Right," Blaise said sceptically. "So, your house elf  _insisted_ on coming with you?"

"He did!" Draco exclaimed. "I swear it. Halfway through summer, he started dropping hints, and eventually he just asked outright if he could come along.  _Then_  he went to Father and told him that it would keep me from bothering the house elves at school and that he'd be able to keep a  _better eye_  on me."

Pansy snickered at him, and Draco threw her an annoyed glare.

"He sounds fun," Blaise said. "What's his name? Think he'd do stuff for us too?"

"His name is Dobby," Draco said sullenly. "And he'll only do things for you if I tell him to. He is mine, after all."

Pansy now appeared to be explaining to Hermione exactly what a house elf was, and when she finished, Hermione didn't look happy. "So, essentially, you've brought your slave to school with you?" she asked Draco with a frown.

Draco blinked. "He's not exactly my slave, no…"

"But he works for you?" she asked. He nodded. "And you don't pay him?" He nodded again. "Sounds like a slave to me," she concluded angrily. "Didn't that practice die out in the eighteen hundreds?"

"But this is different," Draco tried to explain. "He's not human, Hermione, he's a house elf."

"Oh, so that makes it alright?" she asked incredulously. "That's a horrible attitude!"

"No, no, you don't understand," Blaise said, trying to calm her. She looked at him with her eyebrows raised. "Have you ever heard of brownies, Hermione?"

She nodded slowly.

"House elves are directly related to them," Blaise explained. "They help around the house, obey orders, prefer not to be seen, and are happy if you feed them and give them a place to stay."

"Yes," Hermione said impatiently, "But -"

"What does a brownie do if you try to pay it?" Blaise asked her. She frowned.

"In myths, it becomes offended and…" Her eyes widened. "Oh…"

Blaise nodded in satisfaction. "Exactly."

Hermione blushed slightly. "Never mind then," she said in a small voice.

The rest of the train ride passed peacefully, if a bit awkwardly. Crabbe and Goyle didn't really make much noise, and everyone forgot they were there until it was time to get off the train and they immediately flanked Draco.

"Do you mind, Vince?" Blaise asked. "I usually walk here."

Harry was walking slightly ahead of Draco on his other side, which meant that he was in danger of having his feet stepped on by Goyle almost constantly. Hermione was still in the compartment with Pansy and Dudley, and seemed to have gotten over her issue with Crabbe and Goyle too. She was over it enough to laugh at them all, in any case.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Pansy finally said. "You two don't have to be inches away from him at all times. If you really want to, just follow all of us."

Crabbe and Goyle looked to Draco, who nodded in exasperation. They fell back and waited for the rest of them to leave the compartment.

"Bodyguards for a twelve year old," Hermione muttered as she passed them. "Most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."


	3. The 'Discussions'

The Sorting flew by that night, and before they knew it, Blaise, Draco and Harry were trudging back to their room with Crabbe and Goyle once again following at a short distance.

"This is going to get annoying very quickly," Blaise said, glancing back at them.

"I agree," Harry said significantly. They both looked at Draco.

"What do you expect me to do?" he asked defensively. "If I tell them to go away, I'll get in trouble!"

"At least tell them they don't need to follow you around in Slytherin," Blaise suggested. "Your father couldn't possibly find fault with that."

Draco grumbled a bit, then called them over and told them exactly that. Crabbe frowned a bit, looking confused, but Goyle nodded and they both set off in the direction of the dormitory.

"Thank Merlin," Blaise said, sinking down onto a couch by the fire. " Now, let's meet this Dobby so you can tell him to do our bidding."

Harry laughed and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Dobby!"

With a crack, a floppy eared, long nosed house elf appeared and bowed. "Master Draco is wanting something?"

"Hey,  _Master Draco_ ," Blaise teased. "Can I get a bit of that treacle tart we had at dinner?"

Draco waved him off and spoke to Dobby. "Dobby, these are my friends, Harry and Blaise. Do what they tell you, alright?"

"Yes Master Draco," said Dobby, who had already been staring at Harry. "You is friends with the Great Harry Potter!"

"You knew that already, Dobby, remember?" Draco said, shaking his head.

"Yes, Dobby is knowing that sir," Dobby squeaked excitedly. "And Dobby is proud to serve the Great Harry Potter for Master Draco! If Master Draco is friends with the Great Harry Potter, Master Draco must be a much better wizard than Dobby ever knew!"

Blaise was rolling on the couch in laughter, and Harry blushed furiously.

"Could you maybe convince him to not call me that, Draco?" he asked hopefully.

"Call you what, Harry?" Draco asked innocently. "It's just your name, after all."

Blaise snorted. "Does the Great Harry Potter not like his own name?"

"Sod off, Blaise," Harry said, feeling a bit mortified. "Draco, please ask him to not call me that."

"We've always had a problem convincing him to change what he calls us," Draco said with a smirk. "He called me 'Little Master Draco' until I was nine. Making him drop the 'Little' was difficult. Try asking him yourself."

Harry looked down at Dobby, who was looking up at him with shining eyes. He looked at Draco again, who waved him on with a grin.

"Dobby," he said hopefully. "Could you please maybe just call me Harry?"

"The Great Harry Potter is so humble!" Dobby said reverently. "He even says 'please' to Dobby! Dobby does not deserve such kindness!"

"Yes, but Dobby, could you pl- I mean, could you possibly just call me Harry?" he tried. "I don't think you need to call me 'Great', is all."

"The Great Harry Potter is so modest, too!" Dobby said joyfully. "Dobby will do anything the Great Harry Potter wishes of him!"

Blaise and Draco were cackling behind them. Even the portrait above the fireplace was snickering at him.

"But could you -"

"Hey," Blaise choked out through his laughter. "Could the Great Harry Potter possibly see a way to having Dobby get me some treacle tart?"

Harry sighed. "Dobby, never mind. My pig of a friend here would like some treacle tart. Could you…?"

Dobby's eyes brightened. "Anything for the Great Harry Potter!" he turned to Blaise and said, "The Great Harry Potter's Pig of a Friend will have all the treacle tart he desires!"

Dobby disappeared with a crack, and Harry grinned at Blaise.

"So, 'the Great Harry Potter's Pig of a Friend'," Draco said with an evil grin to match Harry's. "You do realise he'll be calling you that for as long as you know him now, right?"

Blaise had been staring at the spot where Dobby had been with an incredulous sort of hilarity.

"He'll actually  _call_  me that?" he asked with a grin. Draco nodded. "I can't tell if I should laugh or…"

"You could help me convince him to change his mind," Harry said hopefully. Blaise laughed at him.

"Not likely. I'm going to enjoy watching your failed attempts. Hey!"

A plate of treacle tart had appeared quite suddenly on Blaise's lap, complete with fork and napkin.

Blaise grinned. "I could get used to this," he said, digging in. In the short silence that followed, Harry decided to ask Draco something that had been bothering him since the train ride.

"Draco, why did you say that to Hermione?" he asked. Draco knew exactly what he meant, and flushed.

"I just thought -"

"No you didn't," Blaise interrupted from behind his treacle tart. Draco glared at him.

"Alright, maybe I didn't. I probably shouldn't have said that to her."

"No," Harry agreed, "You shouldn't have."

"She's going to find out eventually, though," Draco said uncomfortably. "That most wizards don't like muggles and muggleborns. Marrying them dilutes your magical blood, it shouldn't even happen."

Blaise had stopped eating his treacle tart halfway through this speech, eyes wide, and looked as though he wanted to hit Draco over the head with it to stop him from talking.

Harry stared at Draco. "So marrying muggleborns is a bad thing?"

Draco looked worried, but nodded uncertainly. Blaise shook his head slowly, covering his mouth with his hand as though watching a train wreck.

"So," Harry continued angrily. "What you're saying is, that it's a bad thing that my parents got married, and it's a bad thing that I was born?"

Draco's eyes widened, and he shook his head immediately. "No! That's not what I meant at all!"

"It's what you said, though," Harry said coldly. "You said my mother, being muggleborn, should never have married my father. Which means I should never have been born."

Draco shook his head again, and stood up when Harry did.

"Harry, that's not what I meant," he insisted uneasily.

"It's certainly what you said, though," Harry replied, and went upstairs, feeling deeply offended and very upset. He changed into his pyjamas and got into bed, pulling the curtains immediately. He didn't open them till morning.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Blaise took Draco's usual spot next to Harry, and Pansy took the seat on his other side.

"I told Draco he was being an idiot," Blaise tried. Harry glared at his pancakes.

"You think?"

"He feels really guilty," Blaise said after a moment of silence. Harry looked up and realized that Draco hadn't come to breakfast. He was probably trying to avoid Harry's yelling at him again.

"He should feel really guilty, Blaise!" Harry said furiously. "Can you believe he said that about my parents?"

"If it makes you feel any better, he didn't mean it about you or your parents personally," Pansy said reassuringly. "He sometimes just doesn't think. I don't know why he was spouting all that pureblood stuff yesterday, but I'm pretty sure he won't do it again. Blaise yelled at him, and when I found out, I yelled at him too."

"Does he still believe it?" Harry asked. He looked at Pansy and Blaise. "You're both pureblooded too. Do you believe it?"

Blaise allowed himself a smirk. "I don't exactly come from a traditional pureblood family, Harry." Harry raised an eyebrow at him, and he answered the question. "No, I don't believe it."

Harry looked to Pansy for her answer. She seemed to be thinking about how to phrase it. "I don't  _really_ buy into it, Harry," she said slowly. "But what you have to understand, is that it  _is_  traditional pureblood thinking. All the really old families that still follow the old customs do believe in it. A lot of it doesn't make sense, like purebloods being smarter. Compare Vince and Greg to Hermione, for example. But it gives them power, like in the last war, so no one really challenges them about it."

Harry grimaced. "Draco seemed smarter than that, though," he said. "He didn't have a problem with me, Hermione  _or_  Dudley last year."

"Harry, he doesn't have a problem with you!" Pansy exclaimed. "You're his best friend! He probably assumed you would agree with him."

"I think we said it already," Blaise reminded him. "Draco can be extremely stupid sometimes."

Harry nodded emphatically. "He really can. But I don't know if I can be friends with him if he thinks so little of me, what with my being muggleborn."

"Halfblood," Pansy corrected him. At his stare, she frowned defensively. "What? Just because I don't believe it, doesn't mean I don't know it. Your father was pure and your mother was muggleborn, so you're halfblood. Your children would be first generation pure if you married right, so purebloods don't really have a problem with you."

"That's ridiculous!" Harry exclaimed. "You sound like my Aunt Marge, breeding dogs!"

"Don't let Draco hear you say that," Blaise muttered under his breath.

"You, Blaise, are not helping," Pansy said, reaching past Harry to poke him.

Blaise shied away from her and smiled winningly at Harry. "He really is sorry," he said convincingly. "He spent last night and this morning getting yelled at and he looked absolutely horrified at what he'd said to you from the very start of it."

Harry was slightly mollified. "Really?"

"Really," Blaise confirmed. "He's probably kicking himself like a house elf for it right now, and that's why he didn't come to breakfast."

"Alright then," Harry said, and, feeling a bit more cheerful, finished his breakfast.

* * *

The end of that day found Harry studying with Hermione, Dudley and Neville. Draco had apologised to Harry profusely, and promised that he had meant absolutely no offence in what he'd said. Harry had given him a tentative forgiveness, as long as Draco promised not to say anything of the sort to him again.

Which brought him to where he was, Hermione's first study session of the year. Harry hadn't even been surprised that it was on their first day back in classes. This was Hermione, after all. Dudley and Neville certainly weren't going to argue about it. Indeed, Dudley was writing furiously, although it was in his little book rather than on his homework.

After saying hello, Neville and Hermione immediately launched into a description of their first Defense class, which the Slytherins didn't have until tomorrow.

"…hung me from the chandelier!"

"He was only trying to give us a bit of hands on practice, Neville!"

"Then why did he run away after he set the pixies loose?"

Hermione flushed. "Well clearly, he had to retrieve his wand…"

Harry was intrigued. "What happened to his wand?"

"…"

"One of the pixies threw it out the window!" Neville said, shooting Hermione a victorious grin. "It was ridiculous!"

Harry laughed. Hermione frowned at him. "I wouldn't be so hasty," she told him stiffly. "He did give us a test first thing."

Harry looked at her in horror, but Neville laughed. "And what was the first question?" he asked Hermione.

Hermione flushed. "He was just making sure we'd really read the books!"

Neville raised his eyebrows at her. "Do we really need to know his favourite colour?"

Harry laughed. "That wasn't really the question, was it?"

Neville nodded, grinning at him. Harry was suddenly struck by something.

"You're in an awfully…good mood today, Neville," he noted. Neville was normally very quiet, so this boisterous behaviour was a contrast to the boy Harry had gotten used to last year.

"We had Herbology first thing today," Neville said cheerfully. "It's my favourite subject."

"And Professor Sprout adores him," Hermione said with a smile. "He got us all sorts of points."

Neville gave her a pleased grin. "That reminds me," he said. "Ron Weasley wants to join our study group, Hermione. I invited him today, but he said something about it being first day back and that I was crazy. I told him we meet here on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, he might be around tomorrow."

Hermione seemed to consider it.

"I suppose so," she said reluctantly. "But make sure he understands how things work here. He has to be polite."

"Hey, Dudley," Harry said, trying to rouse Dudley from his book. "How did you like Lockhart?"

Dudley looked up at him and blinked as though he'd only just realized Harry was there. "It was fine," he said absently, and went back to his book.

Harry frowned.

"He's been like that since school started," Neville whispered. "The other boys in Gryffindor tried talking to him yesterday, and he snapped at them. That's part of why I invited Ron, because he was so offended and I didn't want him to think Dudley just didn't like him. Hermione and I are getting worried about him. Was he doing it during the summer, too?"

"Not really," Harry said, watching his cousin with concern. "After his mum left, he was really depressed, you know, but he seemed to get over it a bit. Then he started spending a lot of time in his room doing what I thought was his homework, but was probably writing in that book, now that I think about it."

"What kind of book is that?" Hermione asked him. "Where did he get it?"

"I don't know," Harry said thoughtfully. "He must have bought it in Diagon Alley. He and Uncle Vernon went there without me a few times, so I don't know when."

"Do you think it's cursed?" Neville asked them in concern. "They're pretty common, you know. Some of them don't let you stop reading once you've picked them up. My Great Uncle had one, he didn't ever let me touch it."

"So Dudley could have one that won't let him stop writing?" Hermione asked worriedly. "Where would he have gotten it?"

"Not a clue," Harry said, shaking his head. "Like I said, I only went there with him once in the summer, and Uncle Vernon will buy Dudley anything he wants.  _He_ wouldn't know the difference, anyway. Listen," he said, looking at Dudley again, who was still scribbling away in his little book, completely oblivious to their whispered conversation. "Do you think it could just be a normal book, and he's just not taking what happened well? My Aunt was really…horrible about it when she left. I can't imagine it's been easy for him to get over it."

"You know him better than we do," Hermione said. "If you think he'd react like this normally…"

"I don't know," Harry said in frustration. Dudley had never had any issues he couldn't wheedle and demand his way out of before Hogwarts. This could just be Dudley. The thought was worrying.

"Let's just keep an eye on him, then," Hermione said. "He didn't take the book out during Herbology today, and when he did during Transfiguration, he put it away when Professor McGonagall told him to. As long as he's eating, sleeping, and doing his homework, I don't think we should worry about him too much. It could just be his way of dealing with things."

* * *

The Slytherin's first Defence class began with a test, true to Hermione's prediction. And just as Neville had said, it was positively ridiculous.

"I answered each question with a question," Blaise revealed afterward. "' _What's Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?'_  'How is this going to help me defend against the Dark Arts?' ' _What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?'_  'If you just went about publishing it in a book, how could it be secret?'"

After the test, though, Lockhart didn't set pixies on them or anything exciting like that. He seemed to have learned from the Gryffindors, and instead read them a passage from his book until the bell rang.

"I hope the rest of the year isn't going to be like that," Draco sneered as they left, Crabbe and Goyle trailing them unobtrusively. "That was pathetic."

Harry and Blaise agreed emphatically. Pansy shrugged.

"At least he's pretty to look at," she said. All three of her friends stared at her. "What?" she asked defensively. "I'm a girl. What did you expect? He  _is_  pretty to look at."

"What about the fact that he's clearly an pompous fraud?" Blaise asked her. "Does that factor in at all?"

"Well I never said he couldn't be a fraud," Pansy said dismissively. "He's just a pretty fraud. Which makes my year a bit easier. Knowing that he's a fraud, I don't have to pay attention to a single word that comes out his pretty head."

Harry made a face at her and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'm just making the best of things," she smirked, and they followed her to lunch, shaking their heads.


	4. The Voice

"… _let me kill you…"_

"What?" Harry stood up and looked around. It was late Saturday night, which was the night he worked for Filch. Harry was currently cleaning the second floor girl's bathroom. There was a ghost haunting one of the toilets, and she took pleasure in flooding the whole bathroom occasionally, which meant that Harry had to come in and clean it all up while the taps dripped and she sobbed and moaned in the far corner.

Couple that with the voice he'd just heard, and the whole situation became very creepy.

"… _let me rip…tear…kill…"_

There it was again. "Who's there!" he asked worriedly.

"No one's ever there!" Moaning Myrtle screeched, and Harry jumped a mile and hurried out of the bathroom.

Maybe he would just go to bed and finish in the morning.

* * *

"And countless Ravenclaws have been searching for it for centuries, it's almost a tradition now…"

"That's really interesting, Anthony. What would you do if you starting hearing voices?"

Anthony gave him a look. "I'd look around to see who was speaking, of course."

Harry shook his head. "And what if no one was there?"

Anthony frowned. "There could be several reasons for that. It could be a ghost playing a trick on you. Peeves, probably. It could be someone in another room. The acoustics in some parts of the castle are very strange, did you know?" He thought some more. "It could even just be that you haven't looked hard enough for the person who is speaking to you."

"What if…" Harry swallowed. "What if no one else can hear the voices?"

Anthony considered him for a moment. "Voice, or voices?"

Harry thought about it. "It's happened a few times, but I think it's only one voice."

"There are several explanations possible in that case as well." Anthony said, nodding. "It could be someone speaking to you inside your head. There are ways of doing that, you know. They could be using a charm to only let you hear them. For all you know, it could just be a language that the people with you didn't understand. For a person who didn't understand Mermish, for example, someone speaking it sounds like they're shrieking. But if you do understand it, then it's just another voice to you."

Harry sighed. He wasn't going crazy after all.

"Or," Anthony said, opening the book he'd been holding when Harry approached him earlier. "You could just have a mild case of schizophrenia."

Harry thanked Anthony and went back to Hermione's table.

"Hermione, if I have schizophrenia, what does that mean?"

She looked up at him, amused. "In short, it means you're crazy."

Harry's mouth dropped open, and he shot an incredulous look over at Anthony, who was now immersed in his book and ignoring Harry's glare.

"Well that certainly made me feel better," he grumbled.

Hermione grinned at him. "Did Anthony tell you that you have schizophrenia, Harry?"

Harry scowled. "He said it was a possibility."

Hermione laughed. "Speaking of personality disorders, I've discovered something about Dudley's writing. Watch him for a moment, see if you can spot it."

Harry looked over at Dudley, who was, as usual, scribbling away in that book. He didn't see anything particularly special.

"Just wait for him to turn the page," Hermione said, and Harry waited.

And waited.

"He's not doing it at all!" Harry whispered, fascinated. "In fact, he's not even moving down the page!"

"Exactly," Hermione said smugly. "Which means that's definitely a magical book. I've been watching since school started, and he has never used a different page. He writes, it disappears, reappears, then disappears again, and then he writes some more."

Harry blinked, a conclusion forming in his mind almost immediately. "He's writing to someone."

Hermione nodded. "I can't get close enough to see anything though. I can make him put it down for homework, classes and food with little fuss, but he always puts it in his bag. If I ask to see it, he snaps at me."

Harry voiced the question they were both thinking. "Who could it be?"

Neither of them had a clue.

"Oy, what're you two whispering about over there?" Ron Weasley had joined their study group after the first week of school, although he spent most of his time with them being shushed by the librarian and complaining about the homework. He drove Hermione batty, who said she thought she'd been done with that sort of thing once Dudley had gotten over it in first year.

"We're just worried about Dudley, that's all," Harry said. Ron had seemed uncertain about studying with a  _Slytherin_  at first, but Harry had been nothing but polite to him, so he had no grounds to object. Harry personally thought Ron was slightly spoiled, but a nice enough sort of guy as long as Harry didn't pretend that his favourite Quidditch team was whichever was opposing Ron's, like he did with Draco.

"Yeah, what's his problem, anyway?" Ron asked, glancing at the boy in question. "All he ever does is  _write_. And he gets all nasty when you ask what about."

"My aunt moved out this summer," Harry said in a low voice. "She doesn't like magic at all. Dudley thinks it's his fault."

Ron's eyes widened. "Oh," he said, surprised. "Poor bloke. But still, what's with the writing? Never saw him write a thing last year, and now it's all he does."

"We aren't sure," Hermione explained. Her eyes brightened suddenly, and she smiled at Ron. "You're in his dorm with him, aren't you? Neville's already keeping an eye on him for me, but could you, too? Make sure he sleeps and try to distract him from that book sometimes? You're right, he shouldn't be writing all the time."

Ron scratched his head and smiled back uncertainly. "Sure, I'll try…but if he yells at me again, don't expect much."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said sincerely. "We're really worried about him. You'd be doing us a huge favour."

Ron turned a bit red. "No problem," he said with a pleased grin. "Happy to help."

* * *

" _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware."_

"Merlin, look at the cat!"

"Is it dead?"

"Who's the Heir?"

"What's the Chamber of Secrets?"

"That poor kitty!"

"What's going on here? What's going on?" Filch shoved through the crowd, and when he saw Mrs. Norris hanging from the torch bracket, he fell back in horror, clutching his face.

Harry stood in the crowd, nearly as upset as Filch. He'd quite liked Mrs. Norris. "My cat! My cat! What happened to Mrs. Norris?" Filch turned on the crowd, glaring into it fiercely. " _Which of you did it!_  I'll  _kill_  whoever did this! I'll kill 'em!"

"Argus!" Dumbledore swept into view along with several of the teachers and detached Mrs. Norris from her bracket. Filch looked at him in a bit of a panic.

"Dumbledore, someone's killed my cat!"

Dumbledore regarded him sympathetically. "Come with me, Argus. The rest of you, back to your Houses."

"My office is nearest, headmaster…"

* * *

"I heard it again, Blaise," Harry said worriedly.

"Heard…?"

"That voice I told you about before," Harry reminded him. "The one that talked about killing things? When we were on our way down to the common room."

"That's why you wanted to go back upstairs?" Blaise's eyes were wide. "And you led us right to Mrs. Norris…"

"I know!" Harry felt frantic. "That means the voice can't just be in my head. It  _did_ that to Mrs. Norris!"

He and Blaise were sitting in a corner in the common room. Pansy had gone up to bed, and Draco was talking to some of the upper years. He appeared to be saying something very entertaining. Harry couldn't think of anything he could be saying that would be funny right now.

"What's Draco doing?" he asked Blaise, who immediately shifted so that Harry couldn't see Draco anymore.

"Nothing, he's just talking," Blaise said nonchalantly. "Probably trying to find out what's happening."

Harry frowned, leaning around Blaise. "But they're laughing. Why would they be laughing?"

"Oh, you know…" Blaise said vaguely. "Draco can be very funny sometimes."

"I want to ask him what he thinks about this," Harry said, standing. Blaise protested and tried to pull Harry back into his seat, but Harry's scowl was enough to make him let go.

"Draco is such an idiot," Blaise muttered as Harry walked away.

As Harry neared the group, he began catching snatches of what they were saying. His eyes narrowed.

"…mudbloods! I heard one died last time…"

"We're better off without them…"

"…Hogwarts will be mudblood-free within the month!"

A spattering of laughter. Harry stopped. That had been Draco. He turned around to look at Blaise, who was watching him with a look that said he knew exactly what Harry had just overheard.

Harry was furious. At both of them. Draco, for saying such horrible things when he'd  _promised_  he wouldn't, and Blaise for trying to cover for him. He sneered in Blaise's direction, who immediately looked affronted, and glared at the back of Draco's head. Then he marched over to the fireplace and dropped down in one of the empty chairs. He wasn't going to sulk over this. He simply wasn't speaking to either of them anymore.

"Harry." It was Blaise. He actually had the gall to come over here and try to talk to Harry. Harry ignored him, and stared at the low table in front of him instead.

"Harry, I just didn't want you two to fight," Blaise took a deep breath and let it all out at once. "Draco is an arse, we both know that. But I didn't…don't get mad at me too."

Harry glared instead at the mantle, and the portrait over the fireplace snickered at him again. It was always doing that.

" _Shut up, you,_ " he hissed. It just laughed more.

He looked over at Blaise, who was now staring at him with his mouth slightly open.

"What?" Harry asked irritably. "He was laughing at me."

"He…was?" Blaise asked weakly, sitting down across from Harry and staring at him. Harry nodded, nonplussed, and Blaise just kept staring at him.

Harry suddenly remembered that he was angry at Blaise and snapped, "What's your problem, Blaise?"

Blaise waved his hand at the portrait, then at Harry. "You talked to it."

"Yes…"

"That's a snake up there, Harry."

Harry frowned, feeling more and more irritated by the moment. "So I'd noticed. Make your point already."

"My point is that you're a Parselmouth!" Blaise said in frustration. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"A Parselmouth?" Harry asked, confused. Blaise's expression cleared slightly.

"Of course. You had no idea, did you?" He sounded almost fond. Harry glared again.

"Just tell me what a Parselmouth is," he said.

Blaise grinned. "You can speak to snakes," he explained. "You speak Parseltongue."

"Oh," Harry said, surprised. "Yeah, that snake in the portrait is always making little comments at me. I didn't know it was anything important. I assumed he just spoke English and you all ignored him."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Trust me, if that snake was talking to us, the last thing we'd do is ignore him." He looked at Harry hopefully. "Say something in Parseltongue, would you?"

Harry thought for a moment and said, "Blaise is a prat who shouldn't try to cover for people when they're being a bigot."

Blaise smirked at him. "That was in English, Harry."

Harry grinned and reddened slightly. "It's true, anyway."

"Yeah, probably," Blaise admitted. "Now say something in Parseltongue already."

Harry frowned and glanced up at the snake. " _I don't know how to make it work,_ " he said uncertainly.

"Wicked," Blaise grinned. "What did you say?"

Harry was bemused. "I said 'I don't know how to make it work'."

"Try and say something else, then."

" _This is weird._ "

"What did you say?"

" _I said you're annoying._ "

" _No you didn't,_ " the snake in the portrait hissed. " _Why did you lie?_ "

"Harry? Is the snake talking too? What are you saying?"

" _Am I still speaking in Parseltongue?_ " Harry asked, alarmed. " _How do I stop?_ "

"Harry! Speak English!"

"I don't know how!" Harry said, glaring at Blaise.

Blaise grinned. "You just did."

Harry scowled. "I think I have to be looking at the snake," he said.

"That sounds right," Blaise agreed. "Draco's coming, by the way."

Harry looked around. Draco was coming toward them, and by the look on his face, he had no idea that Harry had heard him before.

"What are you two doing?" he asked, sitting down on the couch.

Harry immediately remembered how angry he was and glared at him. "What do you care, Malfoy?" he asked coldly. "I'll be gone in a month, anyway." He turned to Blaise. "Don't tell him about it." Then he stood up and went up to the dorm. As he left, he heard Blaise start in on Draco about what an arse he was, and felt a bit better. Not that he was going to be talking to Draco any time soon, but it felt good to know that Draco was going to suffer a bit.

* * *

Harry dove on his broom, feeling better than he had in a month. Last year's Seeker hadn't failed to graduate like everyone had expected, so the spot was Harry's without a doubt. When Blaise and Draco had found out back in September, they had convinced Harry to buy himself the latest model broom, a Nimbus 2001, in celebration. Flint had had them practicing three times a week in response to the Gryffindor team's almost fanatical practice schedule, which had them practicing every day, at all hours.

"Just the fact that they're practicing so hard should say how terrible whatever new Seeker they've got is," Flint told them confidently. "Our team doesn't have to worry about that. Everyone here has had at least a year." He looked at Harry when he said this. "So if we lose Sunday…" The look on his face very clearly told them that to lose Sunday would be to die, slowly and painfully. Then he grinned ferally and shoved them all out the door for another gruelling practice.

Now here they were, Sunday. It was muggy, and Harry thought it might rain soon. Hopefully the match would be over by then. He rose high in the air again, searching for the Snitch. His opponent was a black boy in Dudley's dorm, Harry thought his name might be Thomas, although he wasn't sure.

Harry watched from above as one of the Gryffindor chasers scored another point. It looked like all that practicing had paid off; they really were quite good. Which meant it was up to him more than ever to find the Snitch first. He did a loop to work off some of his nerves and flew off toward the opposite side of the pitch, Thomas close behind him. Harry wondered if the other Seeker thought he'd spotted something. Harry glanced back at him and saw that this was, in fact, the case. He darted one more glance around to make sure the Snitch wasn't anywhere nearby, and went suddenly into a spectacular dive, Thomas scrambling after him.

Harry heard the commentator yell something about the Seekers, and grinned as he pulled suddenly out of the dive halfway through and carried on roaming the field as though nothing had happened.

" _Who me?_ " he thought in amusement. " _Spot the Snitch? Don't know what you're talking about…_ "

Then the thunder split open the sky, and he was very suddenly being pelted with sheets of rain, which dampened his amusement somewhat. He passed by the Slytherin stands, where Pansy and Blaise were cheering for him underneath a giant umbrella. He saw Draco with them, and pretended he hadn't. He hadn't been on good terms with Draco for about a month now. Draco had said he was sorry, and Harry had ostensibly forgiven him, but Harry still wasn't happy. Draco had claimed to be sorry last time, too, but that hadn't stopped him from making a repeat performance. Harry was nothing if not stubborn, and he didn't think he could be friends with someone who thought his other friends and, indeed, his mother, were lower life forms. So he spoke to Draco when necessary, but it was stilted, and more often than not, Blaise acted as a go-between when they had to interact. Harry knew it upset all his friends (in Slytherin, anyway; Hermione thoroughly agreed with Harry), but maybe this way, Draco would understand just how horrible his thinking was, and maybe change his views.

Harry pulled his attention back to the game, having been distracted for too long, and there it was, a glint of gold, down near the grass. He dove.


	5. The Parselmouth

The victory party in the common room after the game was a very eventful one for Harry. After being congratulated repeatedly by what seemed like every Slytherin at Hogwarts, Harry went to relax by the fire and drank some Butterbeer. Pansy found him immediately and sat with him, complimenting his flying and generally putting him in a very good mood.

He should have known something was going on at that point. Pansy never gushed at him over Quidditch. She had tried to push him off a tower first year when she found out he'd joined.

Blaise appeared suddenly at his right, dragging a sullen Draco along with him. Harry's good mood evaporated, and he greeted them.

"Hi Blaise…Malfoy."

"Harry, we are ending this  _now_." When he wanted to, Blaise could be more stubborn than Harry, which was the only thing that stopped Harry protesting that there was nothing to end. "Draco, tell him what you told me."

Draco looked at a spot behind Harry's head and was silent. Blaise growled and sneered at him.

"Tell him, or I will."

Harry was surprised at Blaise's vehemence, and maybe Draco was too, because he finally started talking.

"Remember how my father made Vince and Greg follow us around all the time?" he asked. Harry nodded, wondering where Draco was going with this. Draco started to clam up again, but Blaise glared venomously at him and he continued. "He also told me, after he met you, that I should…explain a few things to you."

Harry stared at him.

"He said that since you were a Slytherin, you had it half right, but I had already told him you were friends with Hermione, who he knew is a muggleborn, so he told me I needed to make you see that she's…the wrong sort…"

Harry glared and opened his mouth, but Draco cut him off hurriedly, meeting his eyes now.

"I don't think she's the wrong sort at all, Harry! I don't really have a problem with muggleborns, especially not after knowing her, and I never had a problem with you. But my father wanted me to make you think that you should, have a problem with her, I mean, and I just didn't want to…"

Draco trailed off, but Harry thought he had an idea of what he meant. He had seen at Diagon Alley that Draco looked up to his father, and he'd seen with Vince and Greg that Draco didn't want to go against his father's wishes and disappoint him. But still.

"If you were just supposed to convince me, why were you talking to the other Slytherins like that?" Harry challenged him. "I wasn't even around. You certainly wouldn't have convinced me by talking like that, anyway."

Draco looked uncomfortable. "I had given up on you by that point. I never really thought I could convince you in the first place. The people I was talking to are connected with people who would let it get back to Father that I was speaking against…muggleborns and things like that, and he'd think I was doing what he'd told me."

Harry considered this. It was actually a decent idea. Harry had spoiled it by overhearing, true, but it was still a good idea.

"But you won't say that sort of thing anymore, will you?" Harry asked. "Your father is going to have to find out you don't agree with him eventually, Draco."

Draco winced. "I know, and I won't. I promise. I mean it this time, too."

Draco waited for Harry to say something. Blaise glared at Harry when he didn't respond, but Harry ignored him. He thought he might have heard…

"… _So hungry, for so long…_ "

"Harry, he apologised! Don't be a -"

"Shut up, Blaise!" Harry said, standing. "Do you hear that?" Harry had just heard the voice again, very faintly. It was travelling upward.

Blaise looked worried. "Is it the voice again?"

Draco and Pansy looked alarmed and confused.

"What voice?" Draco asked, only to be hushed immediately by Harry.

"It said it's hungry." He stepped closer to the wall, which was the direction he'd heard it from, but it was gone.

"What's hungry?" Pansy asked, confused.

"Last time Harry heard the voice was when Mrs. Norris was petrified," Blaise informed Draco and Pansy, who both looked very alarmed.

"I didn't hear anything," Draco said uncertainly.

Harry pressed his ear to the wall, trying to block out the noise of the party going on behind him.

"I've never heard it either," Blaise said. Harry was struck with a sudden idea, and looked up at the portrait.

" _Did you hear that voice?_ " he asked it. Pansy gasped behind him, and Draco gave a shout. Harry had time to reflect that Blaise hadn't told Pansy either, when he'd only meant to keep Draco in the dark about his parseltongue abilities.

" _I did,_ " the snake responded, flicking it's tail.

" _It was a snake, then?_ " Harry hissed excitedly. A crowd was starting to gather, having been attracted by Draco's shout, and it was beginning to circulate that Harry was talking to the portrait.

" _It was,_ " the snake agreed.

" _Do you know where it is?_ "

" _In the pipes,_ " the snake informed him casually. " _I wouldn't go looking for him, though. He isn't one for conversation. He's hunting at the moment, and you look would look quite tasty to him._ "

The colour drained from Harry's face. There was a man-eating snake on the loose in the school.

" _How big is he?_   _Do you know where he's headed?_ "

" _From his voice, he sounds about as long as the room you are in._ " Harry paled even further. The room was quite long, thirty feet at least. " _He's headed up. I don't know where exactly. He just says he wants to rip and kill. He must be very hungry._ "

" _Thank you,_ " Harry said weakly. He walked over to a chair and sank into it slowly. All of the Slytherins had crowded around them now, discussing Harry's conversation excitedly.

"Harry?" Blaise asked in concern. "What did he say?"

Everyone hushed, wanting to hear what a conversation with a snake sounded like.

"He said the voice is a man-eating snake as big as this room," Harry repeated helplessly. "He says it's hunting, and that it's in the pipes right now."

The uproar was tremendous.

* * *

Sure enough, the next day found Oliver Wood petrified.

The story going around school was that he'd been found in the Trophy Room. His team mates claimed they'd left him in the Quidditch locker rooms, depressed over their loss. He must have gone up to the Trophy Room to look at the Cup that they wouldn't be winning this year and been attacked there.

Everyone was panicking, especially the Slytherins. It was one thing, the Heir of Slytherin attacking a cat, but it was quite another to find that a giant snake was hunting in the school. A hungry snake was not going to differentiate between muggleborn and pureblood. Oliver Wood was halfblood, which was a case in point. Everyone had been expecting only muggleborns to be attacked.

It didn't take long before the giant snake rumour spread through the school, along with Harry's affinity for snakes. Suspicion immediately settled on him like a dust cloud, which wasn't fair, because as Draco said, he was the one who'd told everyone about the snake. If it had been Harry's doing, he could have kept it quiet.

Most Slytherins did take this view, along with Harry's Gryffindor friends, and even Filch (who told him comfortingly one day over tea that he knew how Harry had liked playing with Mrs. Norris and didn't suspect him at all, and how the real culprit would be caught and Filch would hang him from the ceiling by his toenails), but the rest of the school was much less understanding of a Slytherin Parselmouth, and now Harry was being avoided in the corridors and Hufflepuffs were staring uneasily at him and declaring their purebloodedness loudly in his presence. It was all very annoying. Harry was surprised the teachers hadn't called him in to talk to him yet, but as Blaise said, they probably just considered it all nasty rumours.

* * *

"So, Harry, I think we should go somewhere else."

Harry raised an eyebrow. Anthony, willingly leaving the library?

"Don't give me that look," he said, packing his things up into his bag. "I want to give you your Christmas present before I leave for the holiday."

It  _was_ less than a week before the winter holidays. Anthony stood and beckoned him to follow, and Harry did, shrugging. They went into an empty classroom and Harry closed the door behind them as Anthony rummaged around in his bag and set a box on the teacher's desk.

"Happy Christmas," he said, watching Harry as he lifted the lid. Harry stared at the contents of the box for a moment, then at Anthony.

"It's a snake," he said in confusion. Anthony nodded and lifted it out of the box. It  _was_  a snake, and it looked as though Anthony had found it in one of the greenhouses. "Thanks," Harry said uncertainly.

"You can use it to teach me Parseltongue," Anthony explained, holding the snake out for Harry to take. "Blaise Zabini told me you have to look at a snake in order to speak it, which won't do us any good at all if you're to teach me without one."

"I'm going to teach you Parseltongue?" Harry asked, amused. Now that he understood why Anthony had gotten him the snake, he wasn't so bewildered. He had no problem with teaching Anthony Parseltongue. He was surprised that he knew something that Anthony wanted to know and didn't, actually.

"Of course," Anthony said, giving him a winsome smile. Harry grinned at the obvious attempt to sway him. Anthony was no Slytherin.

"Alright, sure," Harry agreed easily. "How are we going to go about doing this?"

"I've learned magical languages before," Anthony said thoughtfully. "But this one is so rare. All the languages are different, each has it's own way of learning. I suppose we'll find out. But I thought we could start with my mimicking you, and you could tell me if I got it right."

Harry let the snake glide around his fingers and thought about this. It made as much sense as any other way. "When do we start?" he asked. Anthony smiled again and stepped over to the door.

"Now is as good a time as any," Anthony informed him, holding the door open for him and following him out. "And if I know how this method works out, over the holidays, I could see about coming up with all the details, like books and conjugations and -"

"Books?" Harry interrupted. "Conjugations?"

"Of course, Harry," Anthony said, glancing at him as though questioning his intelligence. "Most languages have books written, if not about them, then in that language. And just about all languages have conjugations."

"I just speak it," Harry said uncertainly. "I certainly don't know about anything about conjugations or writing it."

Anthony paused. "I suppose there might not be any books, come to think of it. It is a rare language. But don't worry about the conjugations. I'll show you how to teach me. Say 'to speak'."

" _To speak_ ," Harry hissed. Anthony listened closely and when Harry was finished, attempted to imitate it.

"Close," Harry laughed. Anthony nodded, satisfied.

"Now, to conjugate," Anthony explained, "You'll tell me how to say 'I speak', 'he speaks', 'she speaks', 'they speak', 'we speak', and so on. There will probably be a pattern. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Say 'to speak' again."

" _To speak,_ "

" _To speak,_ " Anthony imitated. A passing Hufflepuff stared at them with wide eyes as they hissed at each other.

"Perfect," Harry congratulated him. The snake had perked it's head up from the very first hiss, and had been watching them curiously the whole time.

" _What are you doing?_ "

" _I'm teaching him parseltongue,_ " Harry explained.

The snake regarded them with interest. Anthony was watching it in much the same way.

" _To speak my language, he must learn to hiss properly,_ " the snake lectured, and Anthony, who had caught only the first part, was delighted.

"It said 'to speak', didn't it?" he asked Harry, who nodded with a smile. "What else did it say?"

Harry repeated what the snake had said, and Anthony frowned. "How do I hiss properly?" he asked, more of the snake than Harry, but Harry answered anyway.

"It's like you have a human accent," Harry explained. "It's understandable, but you have to really let the hiss last. I think you need to…" he paused, trying to figure out what was different with Anthony's hiss. "Try to let your tongue flicker, if you can. And your mouth shouldn't be too dry."

" _What are you telling him?_ " the snake asked him.

" _I'm explaining how to hiss,_ " Harry told it. The snake looked satisfied and they watched Anthony try to perfect hissing some more.

" _I would like to help you teach him,_ " the snake informed Harry after a moment. " _I can say the words and he can guess what they mean. We will give him a treat if he is correct._ "

Harry laughed, and told Anthony what the snake said.

Anthony nodded. "That's an idea. We could have him repeating the words I'm to learn, and you could explain to me what I'm doing wrong."

"Do you want the treat too?" Harry asked, and Anthony actually laughed.

"Tell him I'm not a domesticated animal," he instructed.

Harry relayed this fact along with Anthony's version of it's idea to the snake, who agreed and said, " _Not yet, but we will train him."_

And so began Anthony's study of Parseltongue.

* * *

The night before the last day of classes, Draco found a bulletin on the notice board about a Duelling Club.

"We might as well go," Blaise agreed, and since neither Harry nor Pansy had any argument, that night found them milling about the Great Hall with the rest of the interested students.

"Who do you think will be teaching us?" Pansy asked.

"As long as it's not Lockhart," Harry grumbled. Over the past few months, Lockhart had begun pulling Harry aside for 'talks'. The first of these talks involved actually scolding Harry for avoiding a photo-op with him in Diagon Alley, and they only got worse as time went on. Lockhart seemed convinced, with no help from Harry, that Harry was just as interested in being famous as he was. He had taken to dragging Harry through the halls with him, chattering inanely, and even took all of Harry's detentions.

Harry responded to this by becoming a model student and hiding behind Crabbe and Goyle when he saw his professor approaching. Draco, at least, had been pleased that his bodyguards had come in handy. Unfortunately, Harry couldn't prevent association with Lockhart during classes, and had thus been forced into more re-enactments of Lockhart's adventures than he cared to remember. As a result, Harry had quickly lost any figment of tolerance he had ever had for Lockhart.

"Oh no," Blaise said suddenly. Harry refused to look at the stage in case he made eye contact.

"It is Lockhart, isn't it?" he asked unnecessarily.

"Snape's there too, if that makes you feel any better," Draco said consolingly. Harry didn't know that it did. Snape ignored him, for the most part, and Harry had no clue if he would have any help from his Head of House in this situation.

"I think we should stand over here," Harry said, leading them as far away from the stage as possible. Blaise, Pansy and Draco followed, but only because they were liable to get caught in the crossfire as well. They found Harry's Lockhart troubles amusing, most of the time.

"Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"

"I don't think we're going to learn very much about duelling," Blaise whispered. Harry agreed.

"I'm fine with just watching him in class," Pansy agreed. "If I'm going to be spending my own time on this, I want to actually get something out of it."

"..My assistant, Professor Snape. He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin."

Draco smirked. "Can we move a bit closer, Harry? This ought to be good."

Harry warred for a moment with his desire to stay as far as possible from Lockhart, and his desire to see Lockhart cursed into a babbling pile of goo. The way Snape's lip was curling decided it.

"Alright, we'll get a little bit closer. As long as he can't see us."

Lockhart explained the duelling technique, counted to three, and was promptly blasted off his feet and slammed into the wall.

Harry and the rest of the Slytherins cheered.

* * *

The next morning, Harry, Draco, Pansy and Blaise were still laughing over Lockhart's flight across the Great Hall. It had been the highlight of the entire night. The rest had mostly involved Harry dodging through the crowd as Lockhart tried rather obviously to find him after spotting him during the first catastrophic attempt at letting the students duel each other. Harry had become a house favourite after the Quidditch victory and subsequent revelation about his Parseltongue ability, and the other Slytherins had taken pleasure in hiding Harry and pointing Lockhart in the wrong direction.

Despite the amusement value, though, the four of them had decided not to participate in any more Duelling Club meetings. It was agreed that it had been rather pointless. The only thing any of them had learned was  _Expelliarmus,_  and that had been from Snape, who was apparently only there for the first night.

They had Charms first thing that day although, as Draco grumbled, if they'd had Herbology they could have had a free period, as the greenhouses had been snowed in. What happened halfway through class made up for it, however.

"ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! ATTAAAACK!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parseltongue is a learnable language! Just look at Ron in Deathly Hallows. Harry didn't say 'open' around him too many times, but he was able to pick it up and remember it well enough. And if Ron can do it…well, Anthony certainly can. And would certainly want to. And if he's learned other languages, he should be able to pick this up easily enough.


	6. The Book

By Christmas, Harry had gotten to know his snake very well. This was mostly because he had been one of very few people who had stayed at the castle, what with the most recent double attack on the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, and a Hufflepuff boy named Justin Finch-Fletchly. Draco had been one other person who had stayed (along with Crabbe and Goyle, of course), but as Draco was very interested in seeing Harry speak to snakes, it amounted to the same thing.

 

It was female, and although she understood the concept of naming things, she saw no reason to have a name herself.

" _You and Anthony will be the only two who will be able to speak to me,_ " she'd reasoned. " _And if you are speaking my language, then you are speaking to me._ "

It made enough sense, so Harry let it be. Draco hadn't, though, and wanted Harry to name her, reasoning that if he didn't tell her, she would never know.

"She'll eventually figure it out, Draco, she's not stupid," Harry protested. "When we make the same sounds whenever she's obviously being talked about, she'll ask questions. And I won't lie to her."

"But she can't not have a name, Harry! What am I to call her? The snake?" He grinned mischievously. "Why don't you just tell her that the name we use means 'the snake?"

"Draco, I told you, I'm not going to lie to her," Harry said insistently. It was Christmas morning. They'd been having this argument on and off for about a week now. Harry ignored Draco's newest argument and reached for a present. It was from Dudley and Uncle Vernon, and it had a rather long letter attached to it. Harry unrolled it and looked it over.

"If anything, all that writing he's been doing has improved his handwriting," he muttered absently, reading it properly now.

"Is that from Dudley?" Draco asked, nudging him. Crabbe and Goyle were still asleep, so Harry had moved all his presents to Draco's bed, with the idea that they could be quieter this way.

"Yeah," Harry said, his eyes moving down the page. Dudley was doing well at home, apparently. He and Uncle Vernon had done things together every day since he'd gotten back. Harry frowned. What had happened to writing in that book of his all the time? Dudley sounded happy, nothing like the snappish boy he'd been a few days ago, when Harry had last seen him. Harry continued reading, and reached a section of the letter that was choppy and rushed. He paled as he read it.

"Hey, Harry…" Draco looked up from one of his presents to see Harry staring in horror at the parchment. "Harry? Are you okay? What does it say?"

Harry pointed out the section he was currently reading, and as Draco's eyes flicked over it, they widened and his mouth dropped open.

Apparently, the book Dudley had been writing in all year belonged to someone named Tom Riddle. He had been writing back to Dudley, sympathising with him over his mother's abrupt departure and helping him get over it. Then Dudley started losing his memories, forgetting where he'd been at certain times. He'd found red paint and feathers on his robes at Halloween, and he didn't remember what he'd been doing when Oliver Wood and Justin Finch-Fletchly had been attacked. It had been Justin and Nearly Headless Nick's attack that had really disturbed Dudley, so he'd left the book at Hogwarts and was now asking Harry to please get rid of it for him.

"We knew there was something off about that book," Harry whispered, horrified. "Hermione was going to tell Professor McGonagall about it if he didn't stop writing obsessively by the time break ended. We thought at first that he was just upset, but that could only last so long…"

"Merlin," Draco said, shaking his head. "So your possessed cousin is the Heir of Slytherin?"

Harry glared at him, and Draco raised his hands defensively. "I said possessed, didn't I? No one said Dudley's doing it on purpose. He's muggleborn, isn't he?"

Harry sighed. "He wants me to get the book and get rid of it."

Draco nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. Better than him doing it himself, don't you think?"

"It's in Gryffindor Tower. In his bedside drawer."

Draco blinked. "Could he make it any more difficult? He at least gave you the password, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Can I come along?" Draco asked hopefully. "We can do it during lunch."

Harry smirked at his hands. "You just want to see the inside of Gryffindor Tower."

"I want to see if it's as red as the rumours claim," Draco agreed blithely. "It's for a good cause, isn't it? I couldn't let you go up there all alone."

"Sure, alright," Harry sighed, and looked down at the letter again. "I suppose I'm just glad he told me, then. Hermione will be thrilled that Dudley isn't neurotic."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Was that her newest theory?"

"If the book wasn't the problem, then yes," Harry said with a laugh. He was so glad it was over. No more attacks, no more unnaturally obsessive Dudley. "She looked it up in one of the medical books in the library."

Draco nodded, and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. "It's nearly noon. Want to finish opening our presents, grab your Cloak, and get up to Gryffindor before Vince and Greg wake up?"

"Sure."

* * *

After retrieving the book from Gryffindor, Harry and Draco returned to their now empty dorm to figure out what to do next. Draco had wrapped it up in Harry's jumper, having refused to let either of them touch it, and it now sat on Theo's abandoned bed.

"What now?" Harry asked.

"I dunno, destroy it?" Draco asked.

"To destroy it, we'd have to touch it," Harry said reasonably.

"Not necessarily," Draco said, pulling out his wand. " _Diffindo!_ "

A jet of light burst from Draco's wand and hit the book. It immediately rebounded and hit the bedpost, inches from Harry's head, leaving a deep gouge in the wood.

"Holy _hell,_  Draco, watch what you're doing!" he yelled, jerking backward.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Draco exclaimed, shoving his wand in his back pocket and jumping away from the bed.

They both breathed heavily for a moment, staring at the book.

"Let's just put it away somewhere until break ends," Draco suggested in a small voice. "Blaise will know what to do."

Harry nodded emphatically. Blaise would know what to do. They lifted the jumper with the book on it and put it in one of the empty boxes from Draco's presents, jumper and all. Then they closed the box, sealed it magically, and stuffed it under Harry's bed.

"Wait," Harry said after they'd finished. "I don't know if I want that under my bed."

"It's certainly not going under mine," Draco said stubbornly.

Harry thought for a moment. "Does Greg ever look under his bed?"

Draco snorted. "Even if he could see it there, Harry, I doubt he could  _fit_ under his bed to get it out."

Harry nodded and shoved the box under Greg's bed instead.

* * *

Harry and Draco made a valiant attempt to ignore the book until everyone came back from break. If Greg wondered why they glanced at him more often than usual, well that wasn't important.

It was a relief, then, when everyone came back and they were able to nod reassuringly at Dudley on the platform and drag Pansy, Blaise, and as an afterthought, Hermione, down to the dorm.

"What are we doing?" Hermione asked in bemusement as Harry rifled around under Goyle's bed.

"Dudley isn't neurotic, Hermione!" Harry's voice was slightly muffled by being under the bed. When he finally got a grip on the box and pulled it out, he straightened up and deposited the book on top of his trunk, trying very hard to ignore Theo, who was demanding that someone explain what had attacked his bedpost while he'd been away.

"We have the book he was writing in," Harry explained excitedly. "He sent me a letter telling me all about it. Draco, where did we put that?"

Draco rummaged around in Harry's bedside table and pulled it out after a moment.

"Here it is," he said, handing it to Pansy, who was closest. "Read that part," he said, pointing at the important paragraphs. Blaise and Hermione crowded around her and everything was quiet for a moment, as Theo had given up and gone back to the common room.

"Oh my god," Hermione breathed, covering her mouth with her hand in dismay. "Poor Dudley!"

Pansy's eyes were wide as saucers. "Wow."

Blaise looked up at them worriedly. "You have the book now?"

Draco nodded. "We didn't actually touch it, though. It's in here."

He proceeded to slit open the box and show them all. They crowded around and stared down at the innocuous little book apprehensively.

"It sounds like this Tom Riddle person manipulated him through what he wrote, not any magic on the book," Pansy said carefully.

"We are not writing in it," Blaise said immediately. "We're taking it to Dumbledore."

"That's your solution for everything!" Pansy complained. "We can't always go to Dumbledore, you know. I don't care if you're his favourite."

"This  _is_  a situation where we should take it to Dumbledore," Hermione agreed firmly. Draco appeared to be thinking it over.

"You know, Pansy's right, I don't think it would hurt if we wrote in it and asked him a few questions…"

"And what would we ask him?" Blaise asked sarcastically. "'Do you enjoy living in a book? What are your hobbies aside from possessing people and using them to petrify other people? Do you perhaps knit?'"

"Alright, Blaise, we get it," Harry said with a small smile.

"To Dumbledore, then?" Hermione asked.

Blaise picked up the box carefully, and Harry nodded. "To Dumbledore. Someone needs to get Dudley first, though."

* * *

"…and that's when they showed it to us, and we found Dudley and brought the book to you."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. They had taken turns telling different parts of the story, beginning with Dudley's explanation of how he'd found it in his Lockhart books, and how he'd spilled ink on it and first found out there was someone in the diary. Then Harry and Hermione had explained their worry over Dudley, Harry had explained the letter, Draco had told about their trip to Gryffindor, and Blaise explained about what had happened in the dorm.

Dumbledore very gently picked up the book and opened it, causing all of them to flinch except for Dudley. "This is indeed a very Dark magical item. Fifty points to each of you for bringing it to me so promptly."

Dudley shifted uncomfortably, and Dumbledore peered down at him through his half moon spectacles.

"Yes, Mr. Dursley, fifty points to you as well. It took a great deal of strength and courage to leave this at Hogwarts and to write that letter to your cousin. You are a credit to your house."

Dudley blushed furiously, and Harry and Hermione grinned at him.

"Now, I am certain that you are all eager to catch up after such a long break," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at them. "Off with you. Except for you, Mr. Dursley, I'd like to ask you a few more questions." At Dudley's worried expression, he added, "I assure you that you are in no trouble. Greater minds than yours have been hoodwinked by the one that dwells in this book."

* * *

All five of them had remained outside Dumbledore's office, waiting for Dudley to emerge. When he finally did, Harry jumped up from the floor with Draco and Hermione not far behind him.

"What did he say?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, what?" Draco demanded.

"Don't be rude, Draco," Pansy scolded him.

"I'm not being rude, I want to know -"

"I can't tell you if you're all talking," Dudley said, bemused.

"What did he say, Dudley?" Harry asked, and this time they all fell silent, waiting for his answer.

"He asked me a bit about where I'd gotten the book, but all I remember is that it was stuck in with my Lockhart books," Dudley began. He made a face. "Then he asked me how you and me get along, Harry."

"You and I," Hermione corrected automatically. Dudley grinned at her.

"You and I," he repeated. She flushed when Harry gave her a look for interrupting.

"Sorry…"

"No problem," Dudley said easily. The change between now and before break really was astounding. "So I told him that  _you and I_  get along pretty  _well_ , and he looked happy. He offered me a lemon drop and told me that blood should stick together. Then he mentioned his brother and something about goats…"

They all contemplated this for a moment.

"…did he say anything else?" Blaise asked finally.

"He said I have very good friends, and that I should keep them close too," Dudley said. "And that's about it, really."

"I want to know more about the person in that book," Hermione said thoughtfully. "He said that greater wizards that Dudley had been hoodwinked by him, so he's bound to be some famous Dark wizard, at least. What was his name, Dudley?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," he said after a moment of thought. "That was what it said on the outside of the book. I just called him Tom. He said he went to school here, if that helps."

"It does," Hermione said, pulling out a piece of parchment and scribbling the name down. "That means I can look him up in the old yearbooks. Thanks, Dudley."

* * *

"So the whole Heir of Slytherin thing is over then?" Neville asked hopefully. Hermione nodded.

"It was the book causing it all, and now that it's gone - Dudley, Ron, put that down!" she snapped distractedly. "The problem was the book. The book is gone, so is the problem. Stop it, you two, that's a book, not a Quaffle!"

She snatched the book away from Dudley, who was looking very guilty.

"I'd expect that from Ron, Dudley, but not you," she said severely. Ron pretended to look wounded when she wasn't watching, and Dudley grinned.

"Oy, you two, stop torturing Hermione," Harry said, looking up from his nearly completed Transfiguration essay. Ron rolled his eyes.

"That isn't due 'til Thursday, Harry," he told him. "Why are you doing it now?"

"Because it's Tuesday, I'll be busy tomorrow, and Hermione would kill me if I did everything the day before it was due anyway," Harry explained, smirking. "Merlin knows you don't have much time left."

Ron rolled his eyes again. "Fine," he muttered, and pulled a piece of parchment out of his bag. Hermione saw this and looked relieved. She'd been trying to look up Tom Riddle since Dudley told her his name yesterday, but Ron kept distracting her. She had declared him a terrible influence on Dudley and Neville, a title which he wore proudly. He said she had made them both too uptight.

Harry finished his essay and rolled it up after drying the ink. He leaned back in his chair and noticed Anthony sitting nearby.

"See you later," he said, and Hermione gave him a pleading look. "If you want help, invite Blaise more often," he told her with a laugh as he grabbed his bag and went over to Anthony's table.

"Welcome back," he said as he dropped down in the seat across from his friend. "How was your Christmas?"

"It was interesting," Anthony said. "My Aunt Alice visited. I told her about your teaching me Parseltongue, she's very interested. I'm going to teach her what you teach me."

"Alright," Harry said. "I brought the snake, do you think we can do it in here?"

"I don't see why not," Anthony said. "She'll stay on your wrist, and we're learning. Haven't you named her yet?"

Harry groaned. "Not you too. She doesn't want a name. She says the only people talking to her will be me and you, so it doesn't matter."

Anthony shrugged. "Fair enough. Anyway, I've made a list of words you can teach me. I want to learn a few basic phrases first, so I can communicate with my own snake."

"You bought a snake?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Aunt Alice bought it for me," Anthony explained. "And anyway, the best way of learning a language is to immerse yourself in it. I can't do that at home without a snake."

"Alright, what do you want to learn first?"

He hissed to the snake, and she poked her head out his sleeve.

" _Anthony is back!_ " she told Harry with interest. " _Will we be teaching him again?_ "

"What did she say?" Anthony asked.

"She's happy you're back," Harry translated. "Do you want to learn your name?"

Anthony nodded vigorously. "What is it?"

Harry showed him, and soon, Anthony had made up a list of names he wanted to be able to say too.

" _You should teach him how to say food,_ " the snake interrupted at one point. " _Names are not as important as food._ "

Harry translated this, and Anthony shrugged. "I might as well learn the culture as well," he said agreeably.

"What is  _that!_ " Harry winced and tried to hide the snake. Too late.

"Is that a  _creature_ in my library?" Madam Pince asked shrilly. " _Out!_ Get out now!"

Seconds later, they stood outside the doors to the library, Harry rubbing his head where she'd hit him with a thick book.

"Sorry for getting us kicked out," Harry said. Anthony shrugged.

"We didn't have to do this in there, anyway," he said, starting to walk down the hall. "By the way, did you know that all the Hufflepuffs think I'm the Heir of Slytherin?"

Harry blinked. "But that's over…why?"

"One of them saw us hissing at each other, remember?" Anthony explained. "They've decided you're too obvious. Why is it over?"

Harry told him about what had happened during Christmas break, and how the book was with Dumbledore now.

"He's going to announce it at dinner tonight, I think," Harry finished. "We thought he'd do it at the Welcome Back feast, but maybe he wanted to be sure that it was destroyed first?"

"Possibly," Anthony said. "This is good news, in any case. I can use the library at night again."

"You break into the library at night?" Harry asked incredulously. He'd had no clue that Anthony broke rules, although in retrospect, it probably should have been obvious.

"Only when I can't sleep," Anthony said defensively. "Or when I need to look something up and it can't wait until morning. That woman has no business keeping children from knowledge in a school."

"… _So hungry…_ "

Harry frowned and lifted his wrist to look at his snake.

" _Did you say something?_ " he asked it

"Did you hear that?" Anthony asked suddenly. "I'm not sure what it meant, but I heard a snake."

"… _the master has been gone for a long time…_ "

"There it was again!"

" _I said nothing,_ " the snake said. " _It is the big snake, behind that wall._ "

Harry blanched. He stepped over to the wall and placed his ear very gently against it.

"… _if there is no master, what to do? ….so hungry…_ "

"Harry?" Anthony asked. "What's going on? I can only understand a little bit. What's it saying?"

" _I smell blood…_ "

"The snake that was petrifying people," Harry said frantically. "It was under the Heir's control, but now that the book is gone, no one told the snake to go home…"

Anthony's eyes went wide, and they both stared at the wall as the hissing travelled upward.


	7. The Basilisk

"What do we do?" Anthony asked, staring up at the ceiling where the voice had gone. "Someone else is going to get Petrified, aren't they?"

"The snake in Slytherin told me this one eats humans," Harry said uncertainly. "I've been wondering why it Petrifies people instead of eating them. Maybe the Heir wasn't letting it?"

Anthony looked pale. "So people are going to start disappearing instead?"

Harry had a gruesome thought. "I hope we don't find bits of them if they do."

"I didn't need that mental image right now, Harry," Anthony informed him, looking sick. "I say we go back in the library. What are the odds of the snake going there?"

"Without a master, it can do whatever it wants," Harry said, feeling a bit panicky. "It could just roam the halls, picking us off as it finds us."

"I'd still feel better in the library," Anthony said uneasily. Harry glanced down the deserted hall. He thought he might feel safer there too.

"You know what we could do," Anthony said suddenly. Harry gave him a questioning look as they hurried back to the doors of the library. "We could figure out what kind of snake it is. Big, man-eating, petrifies people, not many snakes do all that. Maybe there's a way to kill it."

Harry felt his hopes rise. "That's a really good idea. I'll get Hermione to help us."

They opened the doors to the library and went back inside, only to be confronted by a still angry Madam Pince.

"And what do you two think you're doing back here?" she demanded shrilly. "Out! Out now!"

"But we need -"

"Please, Madam Pince -"

"None of that! You will not bring filthy creatures into my library and expect no punishment! You boys are lucky I don't give you a  _detention_!"

She ushered them out, deaf to their pleas, and closed the doors in their faces.

They stood in silence for a moment, staring in shock at the doors.

"If the snake eats us, I will haunt her for all of eternity," Anthony said bitterly. Harry made a sound of agreement.

"Now what?" Harry leaned against the wall and tried very hard not to look up and down the corridor every five seconds. He was starting to feel uncomfortably paranoid in the open space.

Anthony slid down to the floor. "You could teach me how to say, 'Don't eat me, I'm poisonous' in Parseltongue," he suggested half heartedly.

One of the doors to the library opened, and they looked up in hope. It was just a fifth year, but she did leave the door open.

"Oh, good," Anthony said, standing up and peering inside. "Madam Pince is back at her desk. I can see your friends. We can probably get their attention without her noticing."

Harry looked inside as well. Anthony was right.

"How do we get their attention, though?" he asked. Anthony looked around, but there was nothing near them that would attract attention. He shrugged and started waving frantically at them. Harry followed suit, waving his arms wildly.

After about five minutes, Ron got up and came over to the doors.

"Hermione wants me to ask what the bloody hell you two think you're doing," he informed them, grinning.

"Hermione did not say bloody hell," Harry disagreed. Ron laughed.

"Well no, but I could tell she wanted to so I added it in for her," he explained, shrugging.

"Tell her we need to talk to her," Anthony said. "We've been kicked out of the library, and this is of the utmost importance. Tell her that."

Ron nodded and ambled back over to the table, where he leaned down and presumably relayed the message. Hermione looked back at them and said something to Ron, who scowled and came back over to Harry and Anthony.

"She says you're acting like me," he said grumpily. "And she's busy."

"Well fine," Harry said, annoyed. "Tell her it's her own fault if she gets eaten by a giant snake."

Ron's eyes popped for a second, but he nodded and started back toward the table. Then he paused and turned around. "Just checking," he said hesitantly. "But is that meant to be a threat?"

Harry threw up his hands. "No, Ron. It isn't meant to be a threat, just a serious worry at the moment. Please tell her we need to talk to her."

Ron nodded and went back to the table to relay the message. Neville and Dudley had taken an interest by this point, and Harry could see the surprised look on their faces when Ron spoke. Hermione stood up, finally, and made her way to the door.

"What on earth are you talking about?" she hissed after she'd come outside properly and shut the door. "That Heir of Slytherin business is done with, Harry. That wasn't funny at all."

"It isn't done with, though, Hermione," Harry said. Anthony nodded next to him.

"We just heard the snake," Anthony informed her. "It's still in the walls."

"It's just realised that it's master isn't coming back," Harry said hurriedly, glancing over his shoulder again. "I think it's figured out that it can do what it wants now, and it's hungry."

Hermione stared at them, speechless.

"We were thinking," Anthony told her. "We wanted to look up what kind of snake is huge, man-eating, and can Petrify people. We thought maybe there's a way to kill it. Aside from, you know…fighting it directly and getting your head bitten off."

Hermione still hadn't said a word, but she nodded vigorously.

"But we can't get into the library, because I had my snake in there to teach Anthony, and Madam Pince caught us," Harry said urgently. "So can you do it? You can get Dudley and Neville and Ron to help. Just tell Ron he'll be eaten by a great filthy snake if he gives you any trouble."

"We'd wait here to see what you find," Anthony said nervously, "But I'd really rather be somewhere safer than a hallway."

Hermione finally found her voice. "Big, man-eating, can Petrify people," she repeated. Harry nodded. She took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll look. Should you go tell someone, so they can get everyone to safety?"

"That's a good idea," Harry said uncertainly. He really didn't want to be wandering around the school unprotected at the moment, but it probably needed to be done. "So, er, I'll go get Professor Snape, then…"

"Down in the dungeons?" Anthony asked, looking up at the ceiling. "I'll go with you."

"And I'll find which snake it is," Hermione said decisively. Then she turned around and went back into the library, muttering the words, "big, man-eating, can Petrify people," over and over.

Anthony and Harry looked at each other, and started making their way down the hall as silently as possible, straining their ears for any sign of a hiss. They took the first staircase they found down to the ground floor, and from there ran down to the dungeons.

"I'm going to warn Draco and Pansy and Blaise first," Harry said as they passed the Slytherin common room. "You can come in if you want."

"I will," Anthony agreed, and they both breathed easier once inside.

"Harry, there you are," Pansy said from a chair near the fire. Not many people were in the common room. "I thought you were studying." Then she saw Anthony, and the strained look on both their faces, and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Where are Blaise and Draco?" Harry asked worriedly. Pansy frowned.

"I'm not sure," she said. "I think they snuck down to the kitchens."

Harry was relieved that they'd stayed below the second floor, but still worried.

"Why didn't they just have Dobby get it for them?" he asked, unhappy.

"The spirit of the thing, Harry," Pansy smiled uncertainly. "You know Draco. Are you two alright?"

"No," Harry said curtly. "Stay here, Pansy. The man-eating snake is still running around school."

Pansy turned white. "What?" she asked incredulously. Harry nodded.

"Don't let anyone leave," he told her. "Tell them what's going on if they try."

He turned around reluctantly to go find Professor Snape, but Pansy's voice called him back.

"Harry, you're not leaving," she said in a sharp voice. "There's a man-eating snake roaming around the school."

"I'm going to get Professor Snape," he told her. "Anthony and Hermione and I are the only ones who know about it so far."

"Merlin," Pansy muttered, shaking her head. "Come back quickly, at least."

"Sure," Harry said, planning to do exactly that. He and Anthony went out into the corridor. It looked darker and less welcoming than usual.

"To Snape's office, then?" Anthony asked, and Harry nodded nervously, leading the way.

They heard footsteps pounding toward them about halfway there, and Harry had to remind himself that snakes didn't have feet before his heart would stop trying to burst out of his ribcage.

It was Neville, running along and looking at something in his hand.

"Neville?" Harry asked hopefully. "Did Hermione figure it out?"

"It was in the first book we looked in," Neville said, panting. "A Basilisk. It kills you with it's stare -"

"No one's died," Harry interrupted.

"Let me finish, would you?" Neville took a shaky breath and finished. "And it petrifies you if you don't look at it directly. Mrs. Norris saw it's reflection in a puddle."

"She was outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Harry remembered, nodding. Myrtle was always flooding the place.

"Justin saw it through Nick, and Oliver Wood saw it in the mirror behind the trophies." Neville finished rattling off this explanation and tilted the object in his hand. It glinted at Harry and he looked at it. It was a hand mirror.

"Hermione borrowed this from some girl in the library and gave it to me," he explained. "She told me to look around corners with it, and if possible, to just use it to look where ever I have to. If I see the snake in it, I'll turn to stone and it won't want to eat me."

Harry shook his head in awe. Hermione was a genius.

"Let's get back to the Slytherin common room, then," Anthony suggested. "I saw mirrors in there, and Pansy is bound to have smaller ones."

Harry and Neville agreed readily, and they started back toward the common room, Neville leading the way, Harry and Anthony staring at the floor with their eyes at half mast.

"By the way, Neville, did she mention a way to kill it?" Harry asked after a moment. Neville jumped and nodded.

"I can't believe I forgot, she told me specifically to tell you. Roosters."

Harry nearly tripped over his feet.

"Roosters?" he asked incredulously.

"'The crowing of the rooster is fatal'," Neville recited. "She made me memorise that. I was so distracted trying to get here without being eaten, I forgot. Sorry."

"It's fine," Harry said, wondering where they would get a rooster.

"Do you think the gamekeeper has roosters?" Anthony asked thoughtfully.

"We can ask him," Neville suggested hopefully. "I know where his hut is, we could go there once we get some mirrors."

All of them quite liked the idea of going outside, despite the cold.

"Alright," Harry concluded. "So we'll get mirrors, tell Snape what's going on, and then we'll go see about getting some roosters from the gamekeeper."

"Harry, that won't work," Anthony said immediately. "The first thing a teacher would do in a case like this is order all students back to their common rooms."

"He's right," Neville agreed. "We won't be able to get outside once the teachers know what's going on, and if we waste time letting them figure out about the roosters, it might be too late and someone could die."

"We can't  _not_  tell him," Harry said in exasperation. "Everyone is much more likely to die if they're wandering around the school."

They entered the common room, still trying to think of a way to solve the problem.

"Harry!" Draco appeared in front of them with an anxious Blaise at his side, looking panicked. "What's going on? Pansy said the man-eating snake is going to kill everyone in the school!"

"I did not!" Pansy interjected shrilly. "I said if they leave the common room, they'll get eaten! There's a difference!"

Harry looked around the common room. There were quite a few Slytherins huddled around the fireplace and various tables, looking terrified. It was clear that Pansy had exaggerated quite a bit to keep them all there. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit grateful.

"We need to tell the teachers so they can get everyone back to their common rooms," Harry said. The Slytherins took this as a confirmation of Pansy's tales and it seemed like a terror-induced riot wasn't far from breaking out. Harry sighed.

"Look, the snake was heading up," he said to the common room at large. "We're least likely to be attacked. If anyone has anything to worry about, it's the Gryffindors." This assuaged a lot of the panic. It wouldn't have been too much of a stretch to label a few of them as cheerful now.

"But I do need a few volunteers to go to Snape's office and tell him what's going on," he said. Silence. "Anyone?"

"You'll be safe if you bring a mirror," Anthony offered. "The worst that will happen is that you'll be petrified. It won't eat you then."

Harry reflected that, with the possibility of staying safely in the common room, no Slytherin would see lowering the threat from death to Petrification as a good reason to jump up and volunteer.

"… _so hungry…_ "

Harry tensed.

"… _I cannot eat them if they always turn to stone…_ "

It sounded like the Basilisk had accidentally Petrified someone this time. Harry was relieved that it hadn't killed them, at least.

"Harry?" Anthony whispered, listening with him. "It's back, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, hoping no one would understand what they meant.

"It's back?" Blaise asked, shocked. He'd said it rather loudly, and no one had to ask what 'it' was.

"Tell it to go away, Potter," Marcus Flint demanded, face pale as a sheet. "Tell it to go eat the Gryffindors instead, or something."

Neville looked highly affronted.

"That's an idea, Harry," Pansy agreed. "Tell it to go away."

There was a general murmur of agreement from the Slytherin crowd, and even Anthony looked keen on the idea, so Harry had no choice but to figure out what to say to a Basilisk to make it 'go away'.

"I might just call attention to us," Harry warned them, but to no avail. "I have no idea what to say," he added half-heartedly.

"Distract it," a sixth year suggested. "Time spent talking to you is time spent not eating us."

Harry wasn't sure if that would work, but no one else seemed to have any better ideas, so he gave it a try.

" _Hello,_ " he hissed, wondering if the snake had left already.

" _Hello,_ " the snake in the portrait hissed, amused.

Harry frowned. " _Is the large snake still here?_ " he asked it, hoping the answer was no.

" _He is on the other side of this room,_ " the snake informed him. " _He heard you. I would suggest you hurry if you wish to speak to him. He is impatient and hungry._ "

Harry hastened to the other side of the room, and his friends and the crowd of Slytherins followed him curiously.

" _Hello?_ " he asked again.

" _Who are you?_ " he heard, much more clearly than usual. It had a deep, cold voice, which sounded mildly curious at the moment. " _You do not sound like a snake, but you do not sound like my master either._ "

" _I am a Parselmouth,_ " Harry responded, hoping that would be adequate.

" _Then you must know my master…_ " The snake actually sounded slightly uncertain. Harry took advantage.

" _I do,_ " Harry agreed, hoping the snake wouldn't ask many questions about that. " _He is gone for now, and sent me in his place._ "

" _I am very hungry…_ " the snake told him. " _My master promised me as much food as I wanted if I did as he told me. Where is my food?_ "

Harry stared at the wall, unsure of what to do now.

"I heard food," Anthony said. "What's he saying?"

"He says his master promised him food, and he wants me to get it for him," Harry explained.

"How are you supposed to get it food?" Blaise asked.

"It eats humans," Neville pointed out.

"I know," Harry said in exasperation.

"Who are we going to sacrifice then?" Draco asked curiously. Harry blanched.

"We're not sacrificing anyone!" he exclaimed, glaring at Draco.

"Fine," Draco muttered. "But, I mean, I'm not doing very well in Transfiguration at all, and I thought maybe -"

"That isn't funny at all, Draco," Pansy said sternly. "I'm doing very well in Transfiguration, and you aren't screwing that up for me."

" _Where is my food?_ " the snake repeated impatiently. Harry turned back to the wall, and a hush fell over the room again.

" _You must wait until the time is right,_ " Harry tried hopefully.

" _Master has been saying that for months,_ " the snake said irritably. " _He promised me food soon._ "

Harry relayed this to the crowd behind him.

"Tell it," a fourth year girl suggested, "That if it calls too much attention to itself, then it's prey will figure out what's going on and it'll be difficult to get any more food."

Harry repeated this to the snake, who became thoughtful.

" _If I wait, I will have more, then?_ " it asked him. Harry nodded, then realized that the snake couldn't see him, and remembered how fortunate he was that this was so.

" _Yes,_ " he said. " _If you wait, I will be able to get you more food._ "

The snake was silent for a moment. " _Hurry, then,_ " it told him, and Harry knew that their conversation was over.


	8. The Rooster

Harry's conversation with the snake bought them a few months. Harry had told the crowd that the snake had agreed to go back to sleep for several years so that Harry could find it food, and that was the main rumour afloat. Several others were that Harry had threatened the snake into submission, and that Harry had sacrificed the first year Ravenclaw that had been found Petrified in the girl's loo on the fourth floor, a rumour that had probably been started because of Draco's suggestion. But despite the talk, this news coupled with Dumbledore's announcement that the Heir of Slytherin had been captured alleviated the fear that had begun to grip the school. In February, Harry had been buried under a pile of valentines seeking to express thanks for saving them all. He blamed it on Lockhart and his gaudy Valentine's Day celebration.

Meanwhile, Harry and his friends had been trying to figure out what to do with the basilisk.

"You know," Draco suggested one day, "We could always just find something to feed it, then tell it to go back to sleep."

Harry glared at him. "We're not sacrificing McGonagall."

Draco looked away, but Harry had already seen his laughter. "That's not what I meant, Harry," he said in a stifled voice.

"What do you mean then?" Hermione asked him. They were all sitting in the library on one of the rare days where Pansy and Draco joined in. Even Anthony was only sitting a desk or two away.

"What I mean," Draco explained, "Is that there's a whole Forbidden Forest just outside our doors that's filled with all sorts of food for that thing."

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "That's an idea," he said thoughtfully. "But how would we get it out to the Forbidden Forest without it killing anyone?"

"And why would we want a great filthy snake roaming around the forest?" Ron cut in incredulously. "My brothers go in there sometimes, they've told me stories. That forest is bad enough without a basilisk."

"If we didn't want to kill it, though, that  _would_ be our only option," Hermione argued.

"Wait, why don't we want to kill it?" Harry asked. "We'd just need a rooster."

"You try convincing Hagrid to let you borrow one then," Neville said, looking up from his homework and making a face. "He got really suspicious when I asked. Someone's been killing them all year, according to him."

"Well then, we could just find some other way of getting a rooster," Blaise said dismissively.

"We could just take one," Pansy suggested. "I mean, he's got to sleep sometime. We'll just nip into the coop and make off with it."

"We already discussed this; he'll probably have spells up," Hermione said doubtfully. "Especially if someone's been attacking them all year. I doubt it'll be that easy."

"How are we going to get a rooster then?" Blaise asked. "Any suggestions aside from theft?"

"Harry could get Filch to get one from Hagrid," Hermione said. "You're his favourite, aren't you?"

"He might be able to get me one," Harry agreed. "But I'd probably need an excuse…"

"Just tell him it's for an extra credit assignment," Dudley suggested. "You  _are_  his favourite."

"I don't know," Harry said uncertainly. "I mean, I'll try, but he might want to know why, and then what do I tell him?"

"Tell him the truth, Harry," Neville said, rolling his eyes. "It's not like you're doing anything wrong, saving us all from a giant evil snake."

The rest of the table stopped talking, surprised.

"He's right," Draco said in bemusement. "We aren't doing anything wrong."

Hermione thought a moment. "And even if we set a rooster loose in the halls, we wouldn't technically be breaking any school rules at all."

The rest of the table considered this.

"Well that's no fun," Pansy said at last, disappointed. "If that's the case, we should definitely steal the rooster."

Hermione spoke up over the muffled laughter of the rest of the group. "You know, since there isn't anything really wrong with what we'd have to do, it would be fairly simple to just tell the teachers and have them set out roosters."

"Some Gryffindor you are!" Draco said in astonishment. "Going running to the teachers at the first sign of adventure!"

Hermione gave him a look and said, "There's no reason why we shouldn't."

"There's no reason why we should, either," Harry said reasonably. "We can deal with this."

"Because we're doing such a great job so far," Ron said sarcastically. "We can't even find a rooster."

Blaise perked up slightly. "I know how to find a rooster! We'll get The Great Harry Potter to ask Dobby for us!"

Harry groaned, but Draco's eyes lit up. "It's perfect!  _Dobby!_ "

Dobby appeared with a muffled crack.

"Yes, Master Draco?"

"Harry wants to ask you a question," Draco said, grinning at Harry along with the rest of the group. Harry sighed.

"What is it that The Great Harry Potter desires?" Dobby asked excitedly. "Anything you is wanting, sir, Dobby is getting for you!"

"Er, well, firstly, Dobby, could you not call -"

Blaise elbowed him. "Not now, Harry!"

Harry sighed. "Alright, well then Dobby, could you get us a rooster?"

"Yes, of course!" Dobby agreed. "Dobby will get The Great Harry Potter a rooster immediately!"

"Not in the library!" Hermione said hurriedly, but Dobby had already disappeared with his customary crack. She sighed and stood. "Harry, don't let him bring it in the library," she said pleadingly. "Madame Pince already doesn't like us. Let's not make it worse, please?"

"No, no, Hermione," Blaise soothed, putting a placating arm around her shoulder as they all stood to leave. "Madame Pince doesn't like  _Harry_. And probably Draco and Pansy too. Certainly she despises Ron and Dudley, when they're together. But she _loves_ you, trust me. I know, because she loves me too."

He smiled over at the desk as they left, and as if to prove his point, Madame Pince didn't glare at him.

"See?" he asked once they were out in the hall. "If that's not love, I don't know what is."

Hermione's response was cut off by Dobby's sudden reappearance.

"Here is your rooster, sir," he said, thrusting a live rooster at Harry proudly. It clucked frantically at the group. Harry reached for it tentatively.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said, uncertain if he should mimic Dobby's grip on it's neck. It looked uncomfortable.

"Harry, you're pathetic," Ron said, pushing him aside and taking the rooster expertly. He looked up at the rest of them, only to be met with curious stares.

"What?" he asked defensively. "My mother keeps chickens, got a problem?"

Draco opened his mouth, then shut it. "Can you make it crow on command?" he asked finally. Ron nodded.

"Good," Harry said. "Wait here a moment."

He went back into the library and headed straight for Anthony.

"Do you have the snake?" he asked without preamble. Anthony held up his wrist without looking up from his book.

"Good," Harry said. "I thought you two might want to help me find the basilisk? We're going to get rid of it today."

Anthony dropped his book. "I'm coming!" he said excitedly, picking it up again and stuffing it in his bag haphazardly. "Coming, I'm coming, hang on a second…"

Harry waited while Anthony gathered all his things into his bag, and they made it back to the rest of the group in record time.

"- and you didn't see fit to mention before that you've had access to roosters all this time?" Hermione was asking Ron as they arrived. Ron looked sheepish.

"If I asked my mum for a rooster, she'd ask questions," he explained. "I couldn't tell her I was going to kill a giant snake with it, she'd think I'm worse than Fred and George."

"You could've asked for one for your birthday," Dudley suggested. "Instead of that Chudley Cannons poster."

Ron seemed appalled at the very idea. "It wouldn't have worked anyway," he assured them. "Easter break is coming up, I could've just smuggled one back to school then, how about that?"

"Doesn't matter anymore," Pansy interrupted in exasperation. "Although, for future reference, you should probably inform the rest of us next time you have exactly what we need to save the school from certain death clucking about in your garden, Weasley."

Ron blushed. "I'll keep that in mind," he agreed, shamefaced.

"We're ready," Harry interrupted, and Anthony raised his wrist to show them the snake. "So I guess what'll happen is Anthony and I will lure the snake somewhere, and Ron'll make the rooster crow?"

"Sounds good," Draco said with a nod.

"Where, though?" Neville asked curiously. "We can't just let it die anywhere."

There was a moment of silence.

"That's a good point," Blaise said thoughtfully.

They all thought on it, and after a moment, Draco smirked. "I know."

Harry looked at him curiously, to which he responded, "Basilisk skin is a very rare potions ingredient."

Pansy caught on immediately. "So is the venom," she added with a wicked grin.

Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindors were clueless, staring at them both in confusion. Harry looked over at Blaise, who had a devious smirk on his face as well. Harry felt an identical one grow slowly on his face.

"Any Potions Master would give anything for just a pint of basilisk blood," Blaise informed them.

Hermione caught on. "You're not honestly thinking of…"

"Why on earth not?" Pansy asked. "We're going to capture and kill it. We'll have more rights to it than anyone else."

"We'll have to give Professor Snape a few free samples," Blaise said thoughtfully. "Or rather, Harry will. I always thought he could like you with just a little push, Harry."

Harry grinned. "So where would be the easiest place to harvest?" he asked Draco.

"We'd have to find out where it gets out of the pipes to attack people," Anthony said. "That would obviously be the best option."

"You could just tell it to meet you somewhere outside the pipes," Pansy suggested.

Ron made an indistinct, terrified sound in the back of his throat.

"Too risky," Harry agreed. "We don't know how far it would have to travel to get there. It could too easily stop for a snack on the way."

"So ask it, then," Neville said. "And have it meet you there."

"And how are we going to move it afterward?" Ron asked incredulously. "Where are we putting this great filthy snake?"

"Dobby," Pansy said with a shrug. "He can move it for us, and he can keep it somewhere until we have a chance to chop it up for ingredients."

"Brilliant," Draco said, clapping his hands. "Now go find that snake, Harry."

Harry looked over at Anthony, who had brought their snake out already and had been talking to it.

" _We're going to find the big snake now?_ " she asked, winding her way around Anthony's wrist eagerly.

" _Yes,_ " Harry agreed. " _Any idea where he is?_ "

The snake paused, testing the air with her tongue. " _Down,_ " she said confidently.

"Down," Harry repeated in English. They all set off for the nearest staircase.

" _How far down?_ " Anthony asked as they walked.

" _Very far,_ " the snake told him. " _You could call him, though. I am sure he would hear you._ "

Harry stopped in his tracks, and Neville bumped into him from behind. "Sorry," he said distractedly, and lifted Anthony's arm so that he could see the snake better.

" _How would he hear me from so far away?_ " he asked. " _Would I have to call very loudly?_ "

" _Not very,_ " the snake responded. " _Just call him. He will know. It would probably help to invoke his master's name, but he will know._ "

Harry blinked. " _Invoke his master's name?_ "

" _Sorry about that,_ " Anthony said, still in Parseltongue. " _I was explaining about the Heir thing, and she wanted to know all about it._ "

" _Alright, so how would I invoke his master?_ " Harry asked.

The snake did something strange that Harry assumed was equivalent to a shrug. Anthony shrugged too.

" _I would assume that you would call him by…_ Slytherin's name?" Anthony switched back to English apologetically.

" _Slytherin's name,_ " Harry translated.

"That was really weird," Draco said from behind them. "Just thought you should know."

Harry blinked at him in confusion. "What?"

"You two were hissing at each other, and all of a sudden it was English again," Neville explained.

"And couldn't you use English when you're speaking to each other?" Hermione asked. "We want to know what's going on too."

"But then she would feel left out," Anthony said, holding the snake up significantly.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "So what's happening then, since the rest of us actually  _were_  left out of that conversation?"

"I'm going to call the basilisk," Harry told them. "Apparently I can do that, even from a distance."

"Go on then," she said. Everyone nodded and waited expectantly. Harry took a deep breath and tried it.

" _I have no idea what to say,_ " he told Anthony and the snake. " _Something like, I dunno, 'Come to me basilisk, in Slytherin's name'?_ "

" _Sounds good,_ " Anthony said agreeably. " _Give it a try._ "

Harry cleared his throat. " _Come to me basilisk, in Slyth-_ "

" _I am coming, master._ "

Harry froze instinctively. "It worked," he said uncertainly in English.

"Ask it where," Draco urged. Ron tightened his hold on the rooster.

" _Where do you go to get out of the pipes?_ " Harry asked. He thought he could hear the faint sound of something heavy slithering through the walls, and hoped it was just his imagination.

" _There is a door on the second floor,_ " the snake told him. It wasn't as close as he'd imagined, but it was closer than he'd hoped. " _Do you want me to leave the pipes, master?_ "

" _Tell me exactly where, first,_ " Harry said, heading for the staircase to the second floor. Anthony led the rest of the group, translating what he could.

" _It is very damp and sometimes dirty,_ " the snake explained. It was definitely closer. " _I am going there now. It has many pipes. Mine is just the biggest._ "

"Second floor, very damp, sometimes dirty, many pipes," Harry said in English, surprising his friends. He thought for a moment. "Moaning Myrtle's bathroom!"

" _I know it,_ " he told the basilisk. " _Wait there for me. Do not leave._ "

" _You are bringing me food now?_ " the basilisk demanded. Harry swallowed with difficulty as they neared the bathroom.

" _Yes,_ " he said as sincerely as possible.

" _I smell it,_ " the basilisk said, and his icy voice sounded almost cheerful. " _I smell lots of blood._ "

" _Good,_ " Harry said, noting approvingly that Anthony hadn't translated that last bit. " _Let me bring it inside to you. I do not want you to be seen._ "

" _I smell something else,_ " the basilisk said suddenly. Harry paused, outside the door to the bathroom now.

"Ron, make the rooster crow  _now,_ " Anthony said urgently.

" _That is not a good smell,_ " the snake said angrily. " _Why do you have that smell with you?_ "

" _What smell do you mean?_ " Harry asked, waving frantically at Ron, who was fumbling with the rooster. The rest of the group watched him in wide eyed terror, which appeared to be making him more nervous.

" _That is the smell of my death,_ " the basilisk said in chilling tones. Harry could hear it shifting restlessly. " _You are not my master if you bring that smell to me._ "

"Ron!"

"I'm trying!" he said frantically. "Bugger this…" He pulled out his wand and stuck it in front of the rooster's face. " _Lumos!_ "

The rooster crowed.

They stood there outside the door to the bathroom in silence for a moment.

"Did it work?" Dudley asked in a timid voice.

"Er…"

" _Is he dead?_ " Anthony asked the snake. She flicked her tongue out toward the bathroom.

" _He is,_ " she confirmed. Harry felt the tension melt off of him.

"He's dead," he repeated to the rest of them.

"Oh thank Merlin," Blaise said weakly. Neville and Hermione both sank down to the floor, to be joined immediately afterward by everyone else.

"…we did it," Ron said after a moment of silence. He grinned. "We actually did it!"

They all grinned at each other. "We did, didn't we?" Harry said happily, leaning against the wall next to the bathroom. "You know, I think I could probably put up an 'Out of Order' sign on the door. No one uses it anyway, I'm sure Filch wouldn't mind if I take it over."

"Perfect!" Draco said. "We could turn it into our own little potions lab!"

"Okay, we'll do that then," Hermione said, pulling a piece of parchment out of her bag and handing it to Harry. Harry wrote the words 'Out of Order' on it and posted it on the door. After a moment's thought, he also added a locking charm for good measure.

"How long do you think it'll take us to…harvest everything from the body?" Hermione asked distastefully. "Because the Easter holidays are coming up soon, and the term ends soon after that, and anyway, we've got exams. How are we going to have time to do this?"

"So we learn some preservation spells," Pansy said carelessly. "There are…" she counted them all. "Nine of us, Merlin. It'll take no time at all, especially if some of us use the holiday to do it."

"I'm not going home," Harry volunteered.

"You're not?" Dudley asked, surprised. "Don't you want to?"

Harry frowned uncertainly. Did he want to?

"I'm  _not_  doing it all myself," Blaise said. "Pansy and Draco are going home, so that means you have to stay and help, Harry."

"I'm staying," Neville volunteered. "I'll help."

"I'm staying too," Ron said. "Hermione is too, right?"

Hermione nodded. "There'll be plenty of people to help."

"I'm going home," Anthony informed them. "But I want to help. Save the venom for me, would you?"

"Not a problem," Blaise assured him. "So are you going home or staying, Harry?" he asked.

Harry bit his lip, looking between Dudley and Blaise.

"Dad's got all sorts of plans," Dudley informed him hopefully. "He's said nothing but good things about you since I told him about what happened with the book."

This wasn't entirely new, but it was enough that Harry wasn't sure what he wanted to do now. The idea of Uncle Vernon actually liking him had been unthinkable as little as six months ago. Harry looked at Blaise anxiously. Blaise shook his head with a sigh.

"Just go, if you really want to," he told him.

Harry considered his hands for a moment. "If you're sure it'll be okay," he told Dudley. Dudley grinned at him.

"It will be."


	9. The Bathroom

"Harry, look!" Dudley tugged Harry toward the Reptile House with eager excitement. Uncle Vernon followed them inside proprietarily.

Harry had agreed to go home with Dudley for the Easter holiday. Today Uncle Vernon had taken them on an outing to the London Zoo, which had been fun so far. The entire holiday had been fun so far, as a matter of fact. It had left Harry quite surprised.

Harry followed him inside in amusement. "I don't see anything special, Dudley, it's just a bunch of snakes."

Dudley rolled his eyes, staring around at all the cages. No one was near the three of them.

"Harry can speak to snakes, Dad," Dudley informed his father. Harry glanced at Uncle Vernon apprehensively.

Uncle Vernon cleared his throat. "Erm, can he?" he asked with uncertain surprise. He looked down at Harry for a moment, his moustache twitching as he contemplated it. Dudley nodded and pulled them over to the largest snake in the place.

"Say something to it, Harry!" he whispered, looking around at the few other patrons of the Reptile House. They were still mostly alone.

Harry furrowed his brow and looked at the snake. It had been sleeping, but had woken up when they came over and was looking inquisitively at Harry now.

Harry nodded to it and said, " _Hello._ "

He could tell Uncle Vernon had tensed slightly behind him, and was looking around to see if anyone had heard.

" _Good afternoon,_ " the snake said interestedly. " _Not many people take the time to extend a greeting to me, you know._ "

"What did it say?" Dudley asked, fascinated. "Isn't that cool, Dad?"

"What can you speak to, Dudley?" Uncle Vernon asked, hopefully. "Did you take a language course too?"

"Oh, Harry didn't take a language course," Dudley said airily. "He just speaks Parseltongue. I've no idea how he learned it. But at the end of the year, he used it to lure this great giant snake that was attacking people from out of the pipes and Ron and I used the rooster and killed it!"

Uncle Vernon's beady eyes widened in shock. "You killed a giant snake with a rooster?"

Harry listened with a smile as Dudley told his father all about the basilisk. The snake in the cage was telling Harry about life in the zoo now, but it didn't take much of Harry's attention to come up with the required response.

" _And then at three thirty on Thursdays, I_ _'_ _m given two large rats, as a treat,_ " the snake continued. " _The human boys especially love watching that, I_ _'_ _m very popular on Thursdays, you know._ "

Harry nodded. " _That sounds fascinating,_ " he hissed agreeably. Now Dudley was telling his father about all their friends, and how Hermione had wanted him to study over the holiday.

"-but I know Harry isn't going to study either, and anyway, we're always in the library, Ron says it's mad. He says we should be practicing Quidditch so we can both try out next year. Harry's already on Slytherin team, aren't you Harry?"

"We've only got one game left this year," Harry agreed, noting that Uncle Vernon had perked up and lost a bit of that shocked coloring now that they'd moved on to sports. "Against Hufflepuff. Flint says we've won the Cup for sure."

"Yeah, but next year, when Ron and I are on Gryffindor's team, we'll knock you lot on your arses," Dudley said excitedly.

Harry laughed. "If you can get your fat bottom off the ground on a broom, we'll see," he said jokingly, then looked up at Uncle Vernon uncertainly.

Dudley laughed. "You're so scrawny, you should be more worried that I'll knock you off your broom!"

Uncle Vernon cleared his throat gruffly. "What do you do on the – er….broom?"

"Well, Harry's a Seeker, so he's meant to catch the Snitch, it's just one of the balls, nothing to it, really-"

"Nothing to it, sure…" Harry grumbled, though he was smiling. Uncle Vernon hadn't looked angry once today. Awkward, yes, shocked and confused, repeatedly, but not angry. It was nice.

"But the position I'm going to try out for is Beater," Dudley said proudly. "We get to have this big stick and there are these metal balls that we get to hit at people…"

Uncle Vernon brightened considerably at this news. "So you're the strongest position on the field then, I expect?"

Dudley nodded eagerly. "There are two on a team, and we're the only ones who get to have a bat."

"Aren't the Weasley twins Beaters for Gryffindor?" Harry asked curiously. He distinctly remembered being warned to avoid the twins on the field in both games he'd played against Gryffindor. He didn't think Dudley was going to be replacing them any time soon.

"Ron's brothers?" Dudley nodded, unfazed. "Yeah, they're amazing at it too, aren't they? They've told me they'll train me for when they leave, and until then I'll be a reserve."

" _Excuse me,_ " the snake hissed behind him. " _Are you paying me any attention at all? I was telling you how I killed the rats last Thursday! It was art, my audience was positively astounded…._ "

* * *

"…it was truly amazing, I assure you, I was astounding! That ghoul didn't know what hit him!"

Harry was sitting impatiently at the back of the Defense classroom. The holidays had ended two days ago, and now they were all back to work. Harry was waiting on the edge of his seat for Lockhart to let them go so that he could get back to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and start working on the venom extraction with Anthony, assuming Hermione and the rest of them had finished with the blood.

Draco nudged him and Harry realized that Lockhart had asked him a question.

"Er…you, Professor Lockhart?" he hazarded. Lockhart beamed his large white teeth at him.

"Precisely, Harry! Five points to Slytherin!"

Harry nodded absently and looked over at Draco, who rolled his eyes elaborately and held up his watch discreetly. Class was just about over. Thank Merlin.

"…three feet on my defeat of the…"

"I think we should tell Professor Snape about the basilisk," Draco said in a low voice.

"What?" Harry asked, packing up his things as Lockhart finally dismissed them. "Why would we do that?"

"Well you know we've been working around the eyes," Draco said. "We'll eventually have to figure out what to do with them, and he's bound to know."

"He's also bound to confiscate the whole thing," Harry pointed out reasonably as they joined Pansy and Blaise at the door and left the classroom. "And quite possibly get us into a load of trouble."

"For saving the school from a man eating snake?" Pansy asked skeptically. "Somehow I'm expecting something more along the lines of a hundred points each and an Order of Merlin. Imagine it!"

Draco grinned at them and stuck out his chest, strutting down the hall and turning around to face them again. "What, this old thing? Oh, that's just my Order of Merlin, First Class," he said carelessly, picking a bit of dust off his shoulder and sticking his nose up in an exaggerated manner. "Why did I get it? Nothing important, I just killed a giant basilisk that was threatening the school children. I'm a hero or something, whatever. Oh no, no photographs necessary. Of course I'll sign it for you, what kind of hero would I be if I didn't sometimes smile upon my adoring public?"

They all sniggered and followed him down the hall. "Alright, Lockhart," Blaise said, laughing as Draco continued strutting as they went down the staircase.

Draco grinned briefly before resuming his act. "And of course," he added in a grand voice, "Lets not forget how I first blinded the foul beast, rendering it's eyes useless, before delivering the fatal blow with a swish of my long, able wand! Harry, my boy, come here and allow me to demonstrate."

Harry laughed and ducked away as Draco came at him, brandishing a quill.

"Don't be silly, Harry, you should consider it an honour to be invited to have your eyes poked out by me!" Draco grinned devilishly and waved the quill like a sword. "Come back here and let me disfigure you!"

"Never!" Harry cried, and Blaise laughed out loud as Harry pulled out his own quill and waved it threateningly at Draco, who raised one eyebrow challengingly.

"You dare challenge me?" he asked, advancing on Harry in what would have been a threatening manner, if he hadn't been laughing at the time.

Harry raised his chin defiantly. "You'll never take me alive."

They fought with their quills all the way to the bathroom, Pansy and Blaise watching in high amusement and rooting for whoever looked like they were winning at the time. When they got to the door, though, they called a truce and agreed that Harry could keep his eyes if he gave Draco his Order of Merlin back. They shook hands on it, and only then did they drop the game and enter the bathroom.

Hermione, Ron, Neville and Dudley were all already there, and there were several large jugs filled with blood standing next to them. Hermione and Neville were siphoning the blood out of the snake with their wands while Ron and Dudley made sure that it all made it to the containers.

"Hi, everyone," Harry said, dropping his bag by a sink and rolling up his sleeves. Pansy echoed him and hung her bag on a hook by the mirror instead.

"We were talking on the way here about telling Professor Snape," Blaise told them. Hermione frowned thoughtfully as Ron grimaced behind her.

"I would feel safer with a teacher involved when we do get to the eyes," she agreed. "But how do we know he won't confiscate everything?"

"Maybe we should just let him keep the eyes," Neville suggested. "They're supposed to be more valuable than the rest of the basilisk, aren't they? He should be happy with that."

"But how do we know he won't just confiscate everything?" Ron reiterated heatedly. "He could come in here, see all this and say, 'Detention! Illegal harvesting of snake bits!', and then keep it all for himself, no matter what we offer him!"

"We found it, we killed it, it's ours," Draco told him assuredly. "We gathered these potions ingredients, that's all we have to say. The upper years do it for class sometimes. We'll just make sure he sees it that way."

"Filch has already told you we can use this room, right?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded. "So we even have permission. We aren't doing anything wrong. He can't confiscate it."

"And I'll bet he won't even try if we tell him he can keep the eyes," Blaise said matter-of-factly. "I say we ask him for help today and get it over with. We haven't got much longer until term ends."

"Yes, and if he's helping, we'll be able to study for exams without having to worry so much about this whole problem," Hermione said brightly. "I feel like I've lost so much time in the library lately."

Ron rolled his eyes at Dudley behind her back, and Dudley grinned at him, shrugging his shoulders.

"Alright, let's finish with the blood first, though, we're nearly done," Ron said. "And then we'll hide that, and even if he does take everything else, we'll still have something."

Pansy laughed at him. "Paranoid," she remarked in amusement. "Blaise and Harry and I will ask him. He won't take anything we don't want him to."

* * *

"…So you understand, sir, why we came to you," Blaise finished, setting the piece of basilisk skin they'd brought with them down on his desk.

Professor Snape examined the skin again, minutely. "You want me to harvest the eyes for you?"

"Yes, none of us wants to have any accidents happen," Pansy explained. "And you're an expert at this sort of thing, sir."

Professor Snape stared up at them all for a moment, then back down at the skin.

"We've all agreed that, since you're helping us with the eyes, you can keep them," Harry informed him. Professor Snape's eyebrows went up for a moment, before his face became blank again.

"I suppose that keeping the eyes would be…adequate payment for my assistance," he agreed, standing immediately.

Blaise darted a look at Harry when Professor Snape's back was to them, heading out of the door. He mouthed the word 'adequate' at Harry incredulously.

The three of them caught up to Professor Snape in the hallway. "We feel that the eyes are more than adequate payment, Professor," Harry said, as respectfully as possible.

Snape looked down at them in silence for a moment as they walked. "I suppose they are," he said finally. "I will, of course, have to inform Professor Dumbledore of your story. He will take the appropriate action, but I think twenty-five points each to Slytherin for bringing this to my attention will cover it for now."

Anthony had appeared by the time they arrived back at the bathroom with Professor Snape in tow. He was wearing dragon hide gloves, separating each fang meticulously from the basilisk's mouth, root and all, catching all the venom that escaped with a container charm. He nodded distractedly at them as they walked in.

Professor Snape had stopped in the doorway and was taking in every inch of the basilisk with unfathomable eyes. Harry watched him note the cloth thrown over most of the basilisk's head, and the segments of skin that were being carefully stripped away in long rectangles by Hermione and an unusually serious looking Ron and Draco.

"Professor?" Blaise asked, pointing him toward the cloth-covered eyes. Professor Snape nodded and set to work.

"All of you should stay on the other side of the creature," he said, pulling a long, heavy pair of gloves from his robes and putting them on. Anthony stepped reluctantly away from his work and hurried over to join the others next to the skin Hermione and Ron were slicing off. "The eyes are the most dangerous part of the basilisk," Snape lectured as he summoned a pair of oddly reflective glasses and began extracting them carefully. "Longbottom, can you tell me why?"

Neville blinked, surprised. "The basilisk's stare will kill you, sir, even if it's dead."

"Exactly." He tilted his head so that they could see their reflections in his glasses. "Indirectly, the stare of the basilisk will merely petrify you, but with the added magical effect of the mirrors on these spectacles, as long as I do not look at the iris or pupil for an extended period of time, the worst that will happen is a mild headache."

Hermione and Blaise were listening to him raptly, and Hermione looked as though she wanted desperately to be writing this down. Harry and the rest watched interestedly as Professor Snape efficiently detached the basilisk's eyes and packed them neatly into a cloth-lined box. As he turned to leave, he let his eyes drift over each of them before catching on Anthony.

"The nine of you appear to have this under control, so I will not interfere unless it is absolutely necessary," Professor Snape said. "The rest of the basilisk is not harmful, but the venom will eat through your skin. You were correct to wear dragon hide; however, it would be prudent of you to augment your shielding charm with protective eyewear of some sort." He paused. "Give me your glasses, Goldstein."

Anthony blinked and handed them over. Professor Snape tapped them with his wand and they became much larger and curved in at the sides. He tapped them again and handed them back.

"That should be sufficient. There is a protective charm on them that the venom should not be able to penetrate. Finite Incantatem will put them back to rights after you have finished."

Anthony looked surprised. "Thank you, Professor," he said. Professor Snape nodded briskly and turned to leave.

"Do not hesitate to find me if you run into any more problems," he said as he swept out the door. "Filch is not as well equipped to deal with affairs of this nature as I am."

They all stood in stunned silence as the door shut.

"That went surprisingly well," Pansy said after a moment. Anthony adjusted his glasses with a small smile and got back to work.

* * *

After that, Professor Snape was noticeably more polite to the group that had harvested the basilisk. He was by no means nice, especially not to Neville, Hermione, Ron and Dudley, but he was now far more likely to pick on other Gryffindors in class than them. Even Harry noticed a difference in how Professor Snape treated him.

"He actually looks me in the face now," Harry told Draco one day after class. "Its strange, I didn't even realize he wasn't before."

Dumbledore called them all up to his office one day not long after Professor Snape had done the eyes for them to tell them how dangerous what they had done was, and how they would each be receiving twenty five points and their names on a plaque saying that they had done a service to the school.

Draco decided to celebrate by taking a break from studying, and the rest of the Slytherins joined him in escaping. There were only two weeks left until exams, and Hermione had increased their study group from three times a week to every day but Saturday and Monday, as Harry worked on Mondays and even Blaise refused to meet six times a week.

Neville and Dudley joined Hermione in the library, but Ron announced that too much studying made his head ache, and he joined Harry and Draco in their escape. The three of them went to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, because they were nearly done and Ron insisted (and Draco agreed) that if they left anything over the summer, it would be rotten by the time they returned in September, if Professor Snape hadn't already taken it.

They worked until just before dinner, at which point Ron declared that his stomach was empty and that this needed to be fixed. They left the bathroom in high spirits, only to bump into a much taller, neater, and more shocked looking version of Ron.

"Ron?" he asked, scandalized. "Were you in the…what were you doing in the girls bathroom?"

Harry looked from Ron to his older brother, noting that the tips of both their ears were red.

"We were…"

"Er…that is…"

"I don't know what you were doing in there," the older Weasley said, fingering his prefect badge and eyeing the three of them, "But if I catch you or your friends in the girl's loo again, there will be consequences, Ronald."

He gave them one last ominous look and hurried off. Harry, Draco and Ron all stared after him.

"Relative of yours?" Draco asked conversationally. Ron blushed.

"My older brother, Percy," he said, embarrassed.

"Don't worry about him." Two more redheads had appeared, identical this time. Harry recognised them as the Gryffindor Beaters, Fred and George.

"Yeah, he's just a git," one of the twins said.

"A git with a secret," the first one added mysteriously, draping an arm over Ron's shoulder.

"It won't be a secret for long, though," said the other, winking at them. "We'll figure him out."

"Too right we will," the twin paused for a moment and eyed the Slytherin crests on Draco and Harry's robes. "What's this? Our ickle Ronnikins is chumming around with Slytherins?"

"Not just any Slytherins, Fred," said a twin, presumably George. He was staring at Harry. "This one is Harry Potter."

Harry met their stares uncertainly.

"You took the Cup from Gryffindor," Fred said accusingly. "We could have had it this year, too!"

"Sorry?" Harry asked hesitantly. Draco elbowed him.

"He's not sorry," Draco said, giving Harry a look. "He's just better than your Seeker."

George rolled his eyes. "Too right,"

"McLaggen hasn't a clue what he's doing."

"If he had stayed out of the way in the last match, we could have had a chance!"

"Say, what  _were_  you three doing in the girl's loo?" Fred asked, changing the subject abruptly. Ron's ears went red again.

"Er…"

* * *

Exams came and went. At the end of it all, Hermione had to be restrained from marching up to Professor Dumbledore's office to demand that Lockhart be removed.

"It's the same exact test as the one at the beginning of the year!" she bawled angrily, brandishing the tests. "He didn't even change the questions around! Did he honestly think no one would notice? And what have we learned from him this year?"

"Don't let pixies loose in a classroom," Neville volunteered, backing away when she turned to face him.

"A werewolf's dying howl is ten percent agony and ninety percent enthusiasm for the part," Harry said under his breath. Pansy heard him and bit her lip to keep from smiling.

"All I'm saying, Hermione, is that going up to Dumbledore's office and yelling all this at him is not going to help," Blaise said reasonably.

"Right," Ron said, letting her sleeves go. "So…calmly, with no yelling, okay?"

Hermione took a deep, angry breath and nodded.

They all followed her up to the gargoyle that hid the entrance to Dumbledore's office, only to stop dead at the scene.

There were Ravenclaws everywhere, and they looked furious.

Harry saw Anthony in the crowd clamouring to get into Dumbledore's office and waved him over.

"What's going on?" he asked, waving at the crowd. Anthony looked around at it all and shrugged.

"We're quite disgruntled," he explained blithely. "Lockhart's test -"

"Yes, exactly!" Hermione exclaimed, and Ron couldn't grab her fast enough; she disappeared into the throng.

Neville shook his head. "Let her go," he said wisely. "She'll be happier this way."

They all stared after her for a moment. Draco shook his head suddenly and frowned.

"Lockhart's was the last of the exams," he said, looking around at them all. "Why are we still in this stuffy castle?"

"I've told you," Anthony said, gesturing to the crowd. "We're disgruntled because of Lockhart's ridiculous test. We're aiming to have him sacked, although from the sound of it the seventh years want to put him in St. Mungos. They're not happy about their NEWTS. "

"Right," Draco said, turning on his heel and grabbing Harry and Blaise's arms. "We are going outside."

Harry grabbed Anthony and Dudley, Dudley grabbed Ron and Neville, and Blaise grabbed Pansy, who tugged free and followed the boys with her dignity intact as they rushed down the stairs and out into the sunlight in a tangled knot of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onward to year three!


End file.
